


Snake in the Grass

by DigitalSpectre



Series: By Any Other Name [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Future Polyamory, Other, Reader has mild alcohol problems be wary, gender neutral reader, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 49,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalSpectre/pseuds/DigitalSpectre
Summary: Once upon a time, you were a sweet little thing with no memories. But you made some new ones, with new friends, and you fell in love. Then one day your entire world blew up and you were fucking kidnapped. Now everyone you know and love is dead and you're all alone. So. That's happening.Sure, right now, your daily schedule is pretty much downing a bottle of scotch at 8 in the morning and then assassinating someone but how you work through your problems is your business. Even if your soon to be best friend disapproves. He mauled your old best friend he doesn't get an opinion.





	1. Adder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon characters don't show up quite yet, but you have a good time. Good for you. You're, handling this well.
> 
> The prequel is Flowers by your Doorstep if you want to start this with some context, it's not necessary but it's a much lighter story.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! And there we go! It is now official! Five years ago, this very moment, a bomb went off that destroyed the Overwatch Headquarters. I don’t know how you remember it, but I remember it quite clearly. There I was. Dazed, confused. Bleeding. I couldn’t see anyone close by. There was something in the distance but, it was so far and I didn’t think I could get that far very fast. And then bam, there was a team! They were guiding me out of the rubble. But I didn’t wanna leave see, I was pretty close to Gabriel Reyes, the Blackwatch Commander? You know him, anyway I wanted to find him, make sure he was okay. Make sure anyone was okay, cause I was a good noodle back then. And then the rescue team, oh come on listen up this is the good part, the rescue team puts this needle in my neck. I’m out like a light, don’t know what happened next but the explosion. I remember that. Very memorable, this day. Don’t you think?”

You smile after your little speech, waiting for your audience to respond. He’s an older man, in his mid fifties. Black hair liberally streaked with grey and white. Wearing a really nice suit. Definitely high end designer. You’re not sure which one, they’re all the same to you. He’s sitting on an equally fancy couch in a high end apartment. Top floor, penthouse. You can see the city spreading out for miles around you. It’s really breathtaking and you are enjoying yourself. Your audience, perhaps, is enjoying this a little less. The cuffs you have binding his hands were pre-owned and the rope tying his limbs together is definitely not gucci. You tried but they were all out and you weren’t sure if they were the ones that put tassels everywhere and if there weren’t going to be tassels on the rope then why not get the offbrand? He did not look amused when you told him that. Which was rude it really is a nice joke. You’ll save that for someone who could appreciate it more. Although maybe he wanted to laugh but couldn’t with the gag you shoved in his mouth. That could be it in which case this is truly, truly on you.

“You know, it occurs to me, that maybe, maybe you remember a bit more about that day than I do. After all, you were a lobbyist who interacted with Overwatch often, weren’t you?” You flicked your hand. Copies of dozens of request forms and letters appeared in the air above your hand. You swipe through them for a moment. This man’s name is on several. Stefan Donati. He pales a bit when you pull up a different image. A check from Pristine Arc Labs to his name, dated two days before the explosion.

“This is, just, so strange. It’s a lot of money, isn’t it? Almost, almost as if you performed a valuable service for them! So close to the explosion too, how weird.” Another flick of your hand and the images disappeared. You stood up, sitting next to Donati on the couch, flinging your arm over his shoulders.

“Well, after all your time invested, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, everything was a success. As you can see, of course. I know you’re the observant type. Such a good talent scout you are! Honestly, I wish I had your eye for people. These days my character judgement is just, not. Good. Non-existent actually I’m pretty sure it’s less character judgement more trust issues. I could work on that. But I could also extort you for money or torture you on Thursdays-I used to knit, um. On thursdays. But then I got a contract to kill someone with knitting needles to the um, to the eye. And I did. And it was, a top tier payday really nice. Anyway, no more knitting needles, because I killed someone with them. So that time slot is just, wide open. A real void in my week. I could take up crochet but that’s, one handed and a lot of hooks and, I’m already used to knitting. It would just feel wrong. Like cheating on my hobbies with another, similar hobby. My hobby’s cousin. It gets fucked up if you think if it that way.” You glance at Donati’s face, noting he’s gotten a bit more pale since you started mentioning murder.

“Oh did you think you were getting out of this? No, nooo, I’m sorry. Definitely killing you. Coincidentally, am getting paid for it. You know Britany Wilkerson? I can see that’s a yes. Well, she hates you. And I hate you. It’s really a match made in heaven. If I wasn’t still tied to a dead man who’s dead because of you, specifically, I would consider us a match made in heaven.” You get up and walk out of the kitchen, leaving him alone to think about everything he’s ever done. There was no reason to babysit him. He would never get out of those restraints. And even if he did you would catch him. Besides, you were hungry, and this guy had a really nice filet mignon in his fridge. His pans were fancy too, and looked like they’d never been used before. He probably went to a restaurant everyday. This steak would have gone to waste if you weren’t there to eat it. The asparagus too. And the wine from another millenia. Was it good wine? Who cared. It was now your wine. So of course it was good.

“Your liquor selection is surprisingly sparse. I was expecting some nice cognac, maybe a whiskey for those winter nights. But all you have is wine. Now, don’t go calling me ungrateful, it is some nice wine. Presumably. I haven’t opened it yet.” You carry your plate back into the living room with one hand, wine and a corkscrew in the other. You really do cook a nice steak. It was a good call, you eat enough to-go food to cook for yourself once in a while. Someone had to use those pans before they got thrown out because his soon to be widow would never keep old pans. You smile at him in between bites, wondering if he’s hungry or just scared. He’s keeping his eyes off of you, glued to the holoscreen, as though hoping with all of his heart that someone was going to come rescue him.

You know the feeling.

Unfortunately for you there was no one left to do any rescuing. Unfortunately for him, no one would get the chance. You decide to fuck with him. After all, he had a part in the destruction of an organization of heroes for pocket change that he didn’t even need. He deserved a hunter that plays with their food. You pick up his phone, flicking through his restaurant apps until you find one that does desserts. Cheesecake, you think, would pair well with this wine. Or maybe it wouldn’t, you don’t care. You order and put the phone down, drinking the wine straight out of the bottle.

You idly flip through the channels, stopping for just a second when an ancient monster film comes on. The black and white kind, older than the building you were currently resting in. A small sorrow whispers in the back of your heart. You change the channel, taking another long drink of wine. Fuck that. 

You gave Donati a wolfish grin when the doorbell rang. You stood up, bending down to stare him in the eyes. He had hope in there. Hope that someone had come. Someone could help. The nanites embedded under your skin came to life, and you changed your appearance into his. The color drained from his face. It was almost as satisfying as your dinner. You tipped the delivery boy generously, sending him on his way with more money than ‘you’ had paid for the cheesecake. “Fancy isn’t it? The paperwork called it, Chameleon Protocol. It’s, one of my favorites. Makes things really convenient.”

You set your cake on the coffee table, ignoring it in favor of pulling Donati’s gag out. “Any last words? I won’t record them or anything but it might make you feel better.”

“This will not bring back Overwatch, Thorn!” Donati snarls. You’re surprised. You didn’t think he’d actually remember you. But it was quite a big check.

“Oooh, oh oh oh oh, sweet poor thing. Would it have been so hard to call me Adder? The only people who get to call me Thorn are dead. That name pretty much died with them, don’t you think?” You wiggle your hand in front of his face. Smooth black implants have replaced your fingerprints, down to your first knuckle. A pentagonal black implant covers much of your palm. “It could’ve been a lot more gentle for you. I hear heart attacks are really, really painful.”

You place two fingers against his neck, and tiny needles pierce his skin. It was a barely noticeable pinch, the needles barely big enough to let the nanites into his body. You let go with a smile and begin to untie him. He can’t move, first action your nanites take is paralysis. Sometimes you leave it at that and go a little old school. The amount of times people have asked you to make a kill with an ice pick is both intriguing and disturbing. Why ice picks. Who even uses ice picks anymore. Who picks ice?

It takes time to massage the marks out of his skin, but by the time you have the nanites have already begun inducing a heart attack. You leave them to their work. When they’re done they’ll self-destruct. You have to had it to those assholes at the lab, they did make a nice product. While Donati shook in his seat you enjoyed your cheesecake. You were right, it did go very well with that wine. Sort of like eating strawberry swirl cheesecake, except a bit more bitter. It suits you. 

When he’s finished dying and you’ve finished eating, you clean up. Mostly washing the dishes, throwing trash down the trash chute, breaking into his safe and stealing anything useful. You’ve already ripped all the data off his computer but you do fancy some of his watches. You’ll wear each one once before throwing it into a gutter somewhere. Make someone’s day.

You sure as hell made yours.


	2. Night Off

Most of the time, when you go after a contract, you make sure to spend some time walking around with their face before you kill them. And their credit cards. You may not care about the specifics of expensive things, who cares whose name is on your pants, but you certainly do enjoy making your victims buy you a fancy new wardrobe. Sometimes you just take what you want out of their closets and dressers. They’re not using it anymore, what are they going to do. Come after you? They’re dead.

No one looks twice when you walk down the street in designer jeans and a t-shirt. It’s just jeans and a shirt. You can get that everywhere. Only you’re aware of it and you’re pretty happy with yourself. Standing out isn’t ideal when you’re getting close to one of the holes that you hide yourself up in. You don’t really have a home. You do have several apartments, tiny cheap holes where you can sleep while waiting for your next contract to come through. You never stay at one for very long. Whenever you stay still you start daydreaming about ‘could have beens’. So you keep moving.

Your apartment in Spain is one of your nicer places. Nice, in that there’s no leaks and it’s not actively on fire. The paint is flaking and the linoleum floors are peeling at the corners, the water only works half the time. But no one would be looking for an expensive assassin in the middle of a poorly maintained omnic neighborhood. 

Your decoration is sparse, but less spartan and more laziness. There’s a single, beat up couch in the living room,with a dining table next to it. You never bothered to buy a chair for it. There wasn’t a tv of any kind, you didn’t really need one. Your bedroom was a mattress set shoved into the corner. It was covered in ragged blankets and stained pillows and as far as you could remember it had literally never been made. The most you ever did was put a fitted sheet on once. It was probably only holding on because grime had cemented it to the mattress. Fascinating. And disgusting. Your bed was gross. That’s why you never slept on it. You could always just. Buy a new bed. New blankets. Or you could not do that. Let it fester. Create new life within the...bed...ooze.

Actually you should probably burn the fucking bed.

You strip out of your clothes, leaving them wherever they fall. You would clean up all the personal items before you left. It would probably be time soon to wipe the entire apartment. Move to a different Spanish city. But then you’d be losing one of your best places. Or you could end up finding something better. Maybe something with indoor heating and cooling. An air conditioner would be so, blissfully nice.

You stop before you get in the shower, catching your reflection in the aged mirror. You look okay. Probably could use some multivitamins. You pull up a diagnostic readout, your eyes revealing your mineral levels. You could definitely use some more iron. And sleep. The dark circles under your eyes clash with the implants covering your face like pierced studs. Two above each eye, two below, one on either side of your chin. There's another pair on your neck, on the hollow of your throat. You think it actually looks pretty good. Plus it’s functional. Better than anything you could get at any regular piercing shop. You smile; a humorless twist of your lips that makes you look bitter and unpleasant. To be fair, you are bitter and unpleasant. Most of the time.

Your shower works for once. It’s only shooting out an uncontrollable torrent of ice cold water, but at least it’s working. You stay under the water, idly reading a book until you realize you’re starting to get numb spots. That was probably a warm water only activity. Maybe you’d go after some rich fuck with a hot tub in the bathroom. Or you could give in and buy yourself a vacation home. Something illegally purchased probably. No one’s going to sell to a nameless asshole off the street legally.

You drop down onto your couch with a bottle of cheap strawberry vodka, reading until the bottom is gone and you’ve fallen asleep. When you wake up there’s two empty bottles, the second one is pineapple. At least you were already drunk when you had that one out. Pineapple vodka is disgusting. Sometimes. If there was some coconut in there, then it was suddenly good shit. Maybe you just really liked coconut? Why didn’t you have the tropical vodka that shit had coconut in it. You grumble, shifting on your couch to avoid the morning sun. Maybe you should have breakfast. But that would mean hauling yourself out of the neighborhood and into a grocery store. With its bright lights. And people.

The best you can find still in this place is a granola bar that you’re pretty sure you bought when you first rented this place. Which, to be fair, isn’t that old. But a six month old granola bar is still, pretty gross. Tasted fine with your last glass of whiskey though. You’re contemplating forcing yourself to at least go for a liquor run when your hand rings. Well technically it’s your ear that’s ringing. It’s your hand that flicks to answer the call.

“Hello?” You try to sound interested. Kinda. There is some effort there. You sound alive at least. And like you didn’t just have a very nutritious whiskey granola breakfast. Or maybe brunch. Could be late enough for brunch.

“I demand to speak to Adder.” It’s a familiar voice, one of your older connections. You met while you were threatening to flay a target alive. Then he stuck around while you snapped the target’s neck. Apparently, he found this enchanting, and frequently hired you for himself and his clients. A real fairy tail story.

“I’m sorry do I have a secretary now? A fancy organization? It’s no longer me, alone, in a shitty room in a shitty city in the middle of nowhere? It’s Adder. You know it’s me. You’re the only one with this number remember.” It’s true. You’ve managed to secure a separate number for each individual client. When new clients want to get into contact with you they have to know people and then jump through some major hoops. Does this make you hard to find? Yes. Do you care? No. It’s not like you’re dying for money.

“I have a client who wants a specific man dead.” Your contact growled. He doesn’t like it when you babble. No one does. You're hurt.

“Shocking.”

“The pay is 1.2 billion.”

“I’m listening. The target?”

“Hanzo Shimada.”

You sit up on your couch, a small feral smirk distorting your face. “Well now. Isn’t that interesting.”

“The Client isn’t not expecting much from either of us. Prove him wrong.”


	3. Mission Failure

A long time ago, you once had a best friend. Yes, that’s shocking, it’s okay, take a moment. You had a best friend named Genji. Before you met him, he almost died. Because his brother almost killed him. It took the world’s best doctors, countless surgeries and a body’s worth of full on cybernetics to save his life. It had taken a long time before he finally told you what had happened, and when you asked him if he’d like you to add his brother to your mission list, he just replied “I don’t know.”

But now Genji was dead. And someone else had put Hanzo Shimada onto your hit list. This would call for something spectacular. You should get real fancy with it. Break out all your old school techniques. Wait no. Your old school techniques were mostly poisoning people. Like 5 people that’s not even enough people to call it your techniques. Break out someone else’s old school techniques. Skinnin’ knives, serrated edges, salt, blow torches. Maybe even some bolt cutters, you could take off some fingers. From what you knew, Shimada was an archer. Starting with the fingers would be poetic. 

You might be substantially more fucked up than initial reports suggested.

It’s probably far, far too late for therapy. 

Japan was a beautiful country. You’re glad you put out the money to get yourself into a nice hotel, you deserve a vacation. Do the whole tourist package. See some sights, eat some food, get wasted in your hotel room at 9 in the morning and wake up in time to hunt a man down under the cover of nightfall. That was how most people did their vacations, right? Yeah. Yeah.

Today you’re feeling your good looks, you opt for one of your ‘fuck you I have implants yeah’ outfits. Head to toe leather, backless and sleeveless and probably too tight to be anything besides trashy. But it’s fun, and you feel great. A flick of your hand and the implants on your face project a glowing orange visor. Another flick and the rest of your implants go orange. Not how chameleon was intended to be used but you did want you wanted. Plus you liked the way your spine looked when it was orange. Two lines of elongated diamonds that flowed from your skull to your lower back. Looked fucking awesome in orange. Hell yeah. Time to hit the motherfucking streets. Show off your sweet ass. Get unreasonably drunk for polite company. Maybe start a bar fight or two. Make out with a stranger. Or two. 

Once the receptionist sees you come out of the elevator she jumps to give you the address to a club. Apparently someone with glowing orange bits dressed in all leather is clearly headed for Acidic. The outside is pure white metal, with ‘Acidic’ written both English and Japanese in thin black lettering above the front door. There’s no other decoration. Very minimal, you like it. You watch a few others entering, noting that leather pants are a common theme. You’re sorta hoping this isn’t a sex club. Although you wouldn’t be too opposed to watching. You don’t really have that much to do today. And there’s probably liquor in there. Fuck it. Why not? The line isn’t that long. The bouncer looks you up and down, complimenting your visor before letting you in.

It’s not a sex club, thankfully. Just a regular club that happens to fit your aesthetic like a glove. There’s not a single person there, human or omnic, that doesn’t have some sort of leather on. The music isn’t overwhelmingly loud but there’s a deep pulse to it that you can feel down to your bones. The only lights neon strips and spotlights on the dancefloor. It’s husky and dark and it is so, so right. You need to tip that receptionist. She is a good and wonderful woman who has brought sunlight into your world. In a matter of speaking.

You waste no time getting to the bar, ordering a double shot of something that probably shouldn’t be glowing so bright without actually being on fire. A cute omnic who’s fashioned themself a ponytail out of fibre optic strings starts to chat you up somewhere around your fourth shot. You whisk them onto the dancefloor. Their hands are on your hips and your hands are up in the air; you're close and moving slow with each base pulse. Another human joins the two of you and your limbs all tangle and untangle trying to find the best placement to keep everyone connected. It feels like this is the kind of bar that no one is ever alone at. 

Except one.

You spy him in the small space between songs and dancing couples. He’s sitting at a table alone, looking frustrated and sad and peaceful all at the same time. Hanzo. Your target.

You leave your new friends to each other, passing by the bar to grab a drink on your way to him. He’s unarmed, at least not with his primary weapon. Could be carrying knives. Definitely had his dragons with him, if your information was correct. So he was dangerous. He was watching you approach. He’s attractive, with nice hair and a killer jawline. His clothes fit him so perfectly you know he’s had them tailored if not custom made. The closer you get the more you can make out the intensity in his eyes.

The closer you get the more you know.

You’re not gonna kill this man.

Sitting before you, at a table all by himself, in the best club you’ve ever been to, is the only person on this earth who knew your best friend. The only person who could possibly know what it’s like to be fucking rolled onto your goddamn back by that speedy fuck time and time again. Oh he hurt him, yeah. But he didn’t actually kill him. Whoever took down Overwatch did that. You sigh and take a seat at his table, not bothering to ask permission.

“Someone wants you dead.” You mutter.

“Is this supposed to surprise me?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Tension drips from every word.

“Nah you’re the type. I’m just letting you know you’re buying me my next drink. I’m not getting paid to be here anymore.” You take a sip through the visor. It’s just light, after all.

“If you’re not going to fulfill your contract you should leave.”

“Oh, I really should kill you. Or at least kick your ass. He was my best friend.”

The two of you are silent after that. You both know you mean Genji. The guilt that weighs down his shoulders proves it. A moment later he takes a deep breath, pride coming back to his body.

“He’s not dead.”

“What.”

Hanzo reaches across the table and steals your drink, making a face as he takes a sip. He immediately gives it back to you. Rude. It was delicious. Probably.

“Genji is not dead. I saw him, a few months ago. He’s alive. He’s not, not whole. But alive.”

You almost hold back your tears before you remember you’re wearing a mask. No one can see you. So you go ahead and let the few tears fall. The two of you just sit there in tense silence while you cry in relief. Your friend isn’t dead. One of them. Everything wasn’t completely gone. Sure, you were, sort of a huge trash goblin who left your morals behind in the wreckage but hey. He didn’t have to still like you. You didn’t even need to talk to him again. Fuck it. Not dead is not dead.

“Looks like I owe you then.” You wipe your face with the back of your hands. He glances at you, probably noticing the implants, but at least he has the decency not to say anything. 

“All I told you is that he’s alive.”

“No, I knew you didn’t kill him. I thought. Afterwards. It doesn’t matter. I owe you. And hey, I have it on good authority that someone wants you dead. So I’ll just be your bodyguard. You get protection. I get something to do. It’s on the house. Though you can still buy me drinks.” You lift up your glass in a toast before downing the rest of it.

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Hanzo, Shimada, whatever you prefer, let me rephrase. I am going to follow you home, crash on your couch, probably drink your liquor. If someone comes near you, I’ll kill them on my own. Because that’s how I spend my time. Daydrinking. And Murder. It’s your choice whether I come in through the door or a window.” You point your finger at him and he glares. But that just makes you smile. He crosses his arms and starts watching the crowd. You win.

“Hanzo will do. And I’m not going to buy you a drink.” You don’t win.


	4. Hanzo doesn't want an assassin in his house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason. Can't imagine why.

So it turns out Hanzo Shimada doesn’t want you anywhere near him, much to everyone’s surprise. As soon as you’re remotely distracted (by the cute omnic from earlier, who was so kind as to buy you a drink unlike other people) he manages to remove himself from the club. You aren’t too surprised. It’s more surprising that he thinks you don’t know where he’s staying. Which you really only know because you did some jobs in exchange for information from a hacker you met in Mexico. That girl is fucking good at her shit.

Even if he leaves the city he shouldn't be too hard to find. So you go ahead and enjoy the rest of your evening. Get a little drunk, by your own standards, take yourself out for a nice dinner, spend a few hours reading in a warm bubbling hot tub. Why do none of your apartments have warm water. Why do you never just stick your hand under the faucet when you tour the place. Why don’t you think before you leap?

Probably cause you overthink, when given the chance. Give an inch, take a mile.

A warm bath is enough rest when you don't care about sleep depravation. You can sleep later, you’ve given yourself an interesting new challenge, and the nighttime is the assassin’s natural habitat. You dress in more tactical gear, and allow yourself the briefest touch of nostalgia. It was far more sleek and customized than what you wore in Blackwatch. Your fingertips brush your left chest, missing the feel of the patch you used to wear, once upon a time. You stamp down the memories. That’s enough. It’s over. It’s done. 

As much as you like the receptionist you slide out a side entrance. Your visor goes up, black this time. You prefer orange, but it’s not very stealthy. 

Hanzo apparently moves around as much as you do, working similar enough jobs. Although he does seem to have the sense to stay in better apartments than you. More visible apartments, but one of you has warm water that runs consistently and the other does not. He’s on a higher floor. If someone wanted to kill him at his home they’d have the easiest time at long range. You find your first would be assassin setting up a scoped rifle on the top of a nearby, much shorter apartment building. You aren’t clear which one is Hanzo’s and you really don’t care. Sniping isn’t your style. You prefer hands on. In someone’s home. Eating their food. Stealing their shit. Between you and him one of you is also the more morally centered and it’s probably also the one with warm water. You snap a picture and then shove the assassin off the roof. It’s a really boring way to kill someone. You have many regrets, and then many more regrets about the first set. You should be putting a little more effort into nonviolence. Get one of those little trees to trim. Light some incense. Do sand art. Anything besides taking pictures of the broken body on the ground. That's, that's counter productive.

Over the next few nights you flush out threats in the neighborhood. Most of them are amateurs, the kind he probably could have taken care of on his own. You’re able to scare off most, though you did have a situation after using chameleon to change into Hanzo. It wasn’t even that great, you didn’t have enough data so you had no voice synthesis. But apparently to the dudes in a van it was just spot on. At least it was fun though, getting them to drive their van off an overpass was different. You can now add vehicular manslaughter to your resume.

It makes you giggle more than it should.

Like, seriously. You’re still giggling as you walk up the stairs to Hanzo’s apartment the next morning. It's been hours. Calm down.

You reactivate your Hanzo chameleon, and knock on his door. It’s a little early in the morning, but he seems like the type to be up at dawn and go jogging. It’s revolting. Why can’t he sleep until 10 and still complain about getting up like the rest of society.

The only time you’re up before 2 in the afternoon is when you’ve just spent all night murdering people and never went to sleep. Case in point.

“Good Morning!” You chime as he opens the door. He stares at you, apparently putting together that he recognizes your voice. And he slams the door in your, his, face. You laugh, departing only long enough to remove your chameleon away from cameras and return to the door. He ignores your knocking, and your doorbell ringing, and your quiet chanting of his name with your face pressed against the door. So you get out your lockpicks and invite yourself in. 

You close the door and turn around to his bow aimed at your face, fully drawn. If you had any sense of self preservation you would be concerned. Instead you smile and flick your hand, revealing the images of the assassins you found lurking around his current abode. He looked at the pictures, then back at you, still not putting his weapon down.

“I told you no.”

“So.” You’re still smiling. He’s still pissed. Like, dragons to the face pissed. You’ve never seen dragons before. Actually, you didn’t know dragons were real before. Or...wait, did you know dragons were real before? Sometimes you forget the whole ‘you’ve forgtten the majority of your life’ thing. Maybe you knew. Maybe you studied them. Maybe that’s why you lost your memory that’s what happens when you stick your nose in a dragon’s personal business.

“I asked you a question!” Hanzo, at some point, lowered his bow and released the tension. “Who sent you?”

“Oh. I’m not really sure. I’m a third party contractor of sorts. My client, this middle man who calls himself ‘The Broker’ because he failed his art electives at some point, gave me a call and said one of his clients wants you dead. The pay was 1.2 billion? A little low given that you’re the target, to be honest.” You look over his apartment since he’s no longer aiming a weapon at your face. It’s actually really homey. There’s soft, comfortable looking blue furniture, and plants everywhere. There’s nature photographs on the walls and a soft white rug in the middle of the living room. It feels lived in. Like he belongs in here. 

“I did not need you to kill those men.” He still sounds mad, but he’s putting his weapon away entirely. You’re actually pretty surprised. It’s a bad idea to be unarmed near you. You’re never unarmed. It’s impossible. 

“So? They wanted to kill you and I am your friend. I did my friendly duties.” Since you were no longer being threatened you invited yourself into his kitchen. The mix of dark and light blues continued here. The man was an interior decorating master. You are disappointed to find nothing in his fridge harder than cranberry juice, which you end up taking. At least it’s like. Wine colored. You drop your visor as you pour yourself a glass. Anonymity isn’t useful now.

“You’re not my friend!”

“Oh? And you have tons of friends to choose from?” You stay in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and sipping your juice. You keep your face as level as possible while you just stare back at him. He looks stunned, though you’re not sure if it’s the revelation that you have a face or shock that you dared call him out on his social life. 

“I’m Adder, by the way.” You hold out a hand that he ignores. “Where’s your alcohol?”

“... It’s, 7:30 in the morning.” His face shifted from anger to disapproval. You rolled your eyes and shrugged. A lot of people would react like that. You fished shamelessly through his kitchen cabinets until you find a small bottle of sake. It's disappointing but, you'll take it. For some reason it was only responsible to drink at night. It’s not like you were doing anything during the day. Besides reading and breaking into someone’s house. Apartment. Home. Abode. Place where you probably shouldn’t be breaking into. He didn’t seem, super offended anymore. Or maybe he was going to try to poison you. That would be an interesting way to go. 

“If you’re going to be in my house, you should make yourself useful.” Maybe he wouldn’t poison you at all. You grin at him and rinse out your glass.

“Sure! I’m pretty much good at one thing but tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kill someone.” Hanzo was staring you down with a frown sharp enough to cut glass. Tension brewed back into the air, thick and oppressive. You still grinned, lopsided and toothy.

“Oh Thank Everything; I thought you were going to ask me to do dishes.”


	5. Subtle

The biggest rule of doing a mission with someone else is coming to the realization that you have never done a mission with another human being in your life. Presumably. All of your work for Blackwatch was solo, quick infiltrations that got you in and out of situations as subtly as you can. Working with someone else. That was strange.

Why are you doing it? To see if Genji eventually shows up? Because you see your own lonely trashbag self in him? Because he’s now affording you the opportunity to do something simply because it’s the right thing to do, thus rekindling who you were in the past? Because he’s attractive and you want company? Hm. No, no to all of the above. Introspection is for boring people who play checkers against the computer. All of that is wrong and you’ll think deeply about something when you’re dead. Perhaps you’re just doing this because you can. Maybe you’re a better assassin than he is. That’s clearly the issue and there’s nothing else there.

You walk into an airfield like you have all the business in the world there. Like you would tear the ear off of anyone who dared question your presence at a private airfield at night. Which you would. Less metaphorical than they would expect but hey. What the fuck were they doing questioning you? People tended not to look too closely at you if you acted like it was your rodeo. You’d gotten into some pretty high security spaces by just strolling right in and flirting your way around key cards and clearances. You cleared several airfield guards just by ignoring their existence. A good thing too. They were omnics. You can’t really paralyze or kill one just by touching them. You have to put in effort. Weaponry. Good old fashioned slamming their heads into the pavement. Which was still fucked up by the way. Not having any blood or brain tissue didn’t magically make it less fucked up to bash someone’s head into the ground. If anything, it was worse. No blood to conceal the thousands of glittering bits you just smashed into the concrete.

Not that. Not that you have. Experience. Doing that.

The job was simple. Go into the hangar, make sure that he had the right location, and then leave so he could take care of it at range. Somewhere in the city there were weapons dealers about to pack up a selection of weapons for shipment. If they left the country Hanzo wasn’t sure where they would end up. Which meant that these weapons could be going anywhere and to anyone. It was a danger that he couldn’t allow. Which meant that you couldn’t allow it. Unless you wanted to ditch the whole thing and go back to your previous business of murder and theft. You do need a new pair of boots.

You roll your eyes as you snag a passing human guard, dragging them into the shadows with a paralytic touch. You stole the ammo out of their rifle but left the weapon itself there. Using firearms was pretty much an invitation to any unwanted memories that would love to shove themselves right up in your life. Nostalgia ruined everything it touched. It was the glitter of the emotional world. Wanted to just have a good time, kill a guy and run off into the sunset? No, can’t do that. No, nooo, you gotta follow that guy like some sort of hobby-less loser. You have hobbies. You do stuff. Like. Read. Reading’s a hobby. You read all the time. You’re reading right now if you want to get uncomfortably meta about it. You didn’t want to. But then again you also didn’t want to remember your dead lover. So. Thanks. Nostalgia.

You can’t even distract yourself as you head into the hangar. It’s much more populated on the inside than you were expecting. There were more workers walking around pallets and crates, tapping onto the tablets in their hands. You wish you had one of those outside. It would have been convenient. Plus they would be more likely to have some very high limit credit cards on them. Which was always nice. You were still thinking about those boots. Maybe about calf high, leather. A small space for a knife to hide in. Because you needed one.

You snagged one from a pile on the table. Hanzo was right. These people were about to move major merchandise. And not all of it by plane. Or at least, not by a single plane. You could see everything from heavy assault rifles to grenades and back again. It was like costco for people who didn’t know how to kill the fun and natural way. Like a lion. A technologically enhanced lion. That can paralyze-you know what, like a snail. Or a snake. Wait shit.

One of the men with tablets is looking at you strangely. Perhaps wondering why one of the outside guards was indoors. Without his rifle. Maybe you should have taken in. You pull the ammo clip out of your pocket and wiggle it in his direction. Just stopped in for a clip. Everything’s fine. Oh wait no he’s coming towards you. You attempt to just ignore him and walk away, but apparently that’s not how this is going to work. He’s getting angrier than your actual coworker, who probably isn’t going to be happy with what’s about to happen.

Actually, he’s probably already unhappy with what’s happening now. At any given time you will know, for sure, that he is not happy with whatever is happening within 30 feet of you. It will be one of the defining features of your reality. Like death. And how gross raw onions were. You’re not allowed to be slimy and crispy, onions. No one gave you that permission. What the fuck.

The tablet guy grapes your shoulder and spins you around to face him. So you slap him in the face. He babbles in shock and goes down before he gets the chance to ‘fire’ you. Oh go check to make sure this is the right place and then come out yeah that’s not, ever how this was going to work who made you think that Hanzo. 

And then all hell breaks loose.

The indoor guards immediately start firing while the tablet army scramble to secure their lists and then find a way to shoot at you. It’s okay guys. Take your time. Just sitting here. Rolling behind cover. Paralyzing whoever gets too close and has exposed skin. Wait why are you paralyzing them again? They’re definitely weapons dealers. They’re definitely not innocent. They probably could deserve death. What else are you going to do to deal with this? Call the police? Yes officers, I’m an assassin who was sent to kill another assassin, only he sort of reminded me of myself if I were capable of putting my life together so now I sorta help him out anyway there’s some guns in there?

“What’s happening?” Hanzo demanded. Oh yeah. You forgot you had him on call. Should remember that next time.

“Oh they’re definitely selling weapons. The way they’re wasting ammo I hope they sell quickly. It’s all going to waste right now.” You wince as a bullet whizzes right past your ear.

“Do you have no subtlety? What sort of assassin are you. Get out of there, now.” Well now that’s a novel idea. Thanks for that! You were going to sit around and try to take a room full of armed dealers single handed without thinking about ever leaving. Why would you? It’s like a vacation. Maybe. Your only vacation lasted one day and then you found Hanzo. It wasn’t even a full day. You snapped a man’s neck on your way out, proud of yourself for actually finishing the job instead of leaving them to wake up another day. As you take off you notice the first guard you attacked coming at you with a handgun. He sure woke up fast. Good for him. That’s impressive. You don’t have cover. Fuck.

An arrow sinks into his neck.

“Get Down.” You drop, hearing yelling in your ears as a bright blue light comes from above. There’s the sound of tearing metal and a few screams, and then silence. When you get up and turn around the hangar is in pieces. Flaming pieces.

 

"... Man I guess I really don't know anything about being subtle. Teach me this mystery."


	6. Cognac

“-and I would have been responsible if you had died. I do not need your blood on my hands!” For someone that does not like you, Hanzo has been spending a very long time scolding you on your decisions. Which, you really don’t understand. His dragons, which you are upset that you didn’t get a good look at, did come in handy at the end. Taking out the majority of your problems and the weapons themselves. But you would have been able to get out fine. Actually you wouldn’t have tried to get out. You would have been patient and worked your way through the building. If you died, okay. If you didn’t die, sweet. Not dying was rarely a goal when you were working. The clients weren’t paying you to not die. There was a job to be done.

But you do not think it’s a smart idea to tell this guy, anything like that. He’s stressed. Prone to guilt, you suppose. He must regret...things that you won’t bring up. You wouldn’t want him to bring up your past. So you stay quiet, sip the cognac you bought on the way back to his apartment, and let him get the stress out.

“Next time. You will be more careful.”

This gets your attention. His expression is calm. Not something you were expecting to see. Something about it shocks you into calmness to. A sort of, if he can do it I can do it situation. You grip your glass a little tighter. You don’t really need to be calm. You’re plenty calm. You’re the picture of calm. If someone were researching how to achieve the truest calm they would find you and make you a ten year case stu-oh and then you made yourself uncomfortable again thinking about dealing with a… study… environment... Magnificient. Take that, meditation. You’ll be calm when you’re dead.

“Wait next time?” Focus on the archer, just. Focus on him. He’s still got that face on can he be annoyed again what do you gotta do.

“You seemed uninterested in leaving me alone. I will take advantage of your skills until you find something else to entertain yourself with.” He looks at your glass, a frown returning to his face. There it is. Perfect. Now you don’t have to put any effort into getting on his nerves you’re already there like some sort of awkward space snake situation. Don’t think about. Don’t go down that wormhole.

“We are leaving in 2 days.” Aaand then he’s gone. Off to do. Hanzo things. Leaving you alone with a sweet, sweet bottle of cognac. What a hero.

He didn’t come out of his room again until you were halfway done with the bottle and two books into your reading list. You barely looked at him. You were getting to a really good part of the book. Someone was raising an elder god from the depths of the Atlantic ocean with the intent of making it marry them in exchange for bringing it back to our realm of existence. Which, is pretty much the best way to go. Why even bother dating if you’re not getting it on with a terrifying abomination that’s destined to rip reality apart.

“This is what you do.” You sigh, flicking the book away.

“I could get on your table and dance but that doesn’t look like a sturdy table. Countertop maybe. It’s a little narrow but that’s only really a problem if you want like. A really elaborate dance. Should be fine for a little wiggle though. Maybe some twists. Some jazz hands. Are jazz hands even useful anymore besides being sarcastic? Are they stageplay only? Is there a guidebook somewhere? Or do you not care. Is that an anarchist countertop? Fuck the rules? I’m ready. I’ve shaken my hands before, I know how it works.” You grin. He puts the bottle away instead of bringing it to you. Which was rude. You had plans for that bottle. You were going to go places. You were going to get things done. Now you’re just going to sit on the couch and read. Which was, actually your only plans but now you’re doing it with less booze.

“If you’re bored I’m sure we can do something though. Wanna fight?” You stand up, stretching.

“You’re drunk.” Hanzo shakes his head. He goes to walk away but you practically prance to his side, swinging an arm over his shoulders briefly before slipping in front of him. 

“So? Fight me.” You raise your fists, swaying side to side without putting much thought into stability. It was never your strong suit. You tend towards being underhanded and sneaky. When Hanzo tries to walk around you your leg hooks his and tugs. You dance away from him, still grinning.

“C’mon. Fight me.” You coo. The anger is slipping back into him. You jab this time not intending to punch him but just to goad him into the game. He catches your wrist and lunges, pushing you into a wall. It’s, very very warm all of a sudden. You spent all that valuable time enjoying your cognac and then you’re stone cold sober with one push. You would really prefer to be drunk again. Especially since he’s really close and there’s annoyance in his eyes and something else that you really can’t read. And it's. Not hot. Not at all. Not even a little bit. He holds your wrist for a moment before a small smirk twitches onto his lips.

“We can spar when you’re sober. Let’s see how long that takes.” He lets you go and walks back into his room. The door closes with a soft click. You’re not sure if you want to go down the rest of your liquor in one go. Or if you never want to touch the stuff again. You drop back onto his couch and flick your book back open. Let’s see how long that takes indeed.


	7. Planes make you uncomfortable

You prefer not to take planes if you can avoid it. If time isn’t an issue you prefer ships. Trains. Walking. There’s something about flying in general that creeps into your skin, whispers in your ear, grabs you by the neck.

It makes you remember.

You were usually in the plane alone. But once, you were with Genji. You were being dropped off while he continued on to do his mission. There was no reason to waste the gas with two separate planes. It didn’t always work out so conveniently. But for one time. You and Genji sat next to each other. Genji was casually asking questions. Quizzing you.

“If someone comes at you from behind, what do you do?” “If you are surrounded, what do you do?” “If your position is compromised, what do you do?”

It’s your second mission. He doesn’t think you’re ready; knows you weren’t ready for your first mission. But both you and Reyes were out for blood. So there was nothing that could have been done. And since it went well, that was that. There was no going back.

“If you are captured, what do you do?” He’s not looking at you while he asks, but Genji rarely looks at you while he talks. 

“Deny any connection to Overwatch. Give them lies instead of secrets. If I have to I have a capsule hidden-”

“No. Give it to me.” Genji is looking at you, holding out his hand expectantly. You’re uncertain, confused, but you fish out the small white tablet and hand it to him. He crushes it and looks away again.

“If you’re captured, you wait for McCree and myself. Thorn. You wait.” You open your mouth to ask more, but you say nothing. 

When you were captured you waited. At least, as soon as you were conscious of your surroundings you waited. You waited and waited and waited until you changed your mind. You made up a new rule. One that made a lot more sense. One that felt right.

If you’re captured, kill your captors. Take down every fucker who crosses your path. Rip into them until the nanites in your body are so active you feel like you’re on fire. And then, kill another one for the road. Fuck shit up. Then get fucked up at a bar until you’ve forgotten everything and then somehow stab your way towards a first class seat on an airplane with your best friend’s brother.

The more you think about it the more that seems like a solid life plan.

Although you suppose Genji isn’t your best friend anymore. It’s been way too long since you’ve seen him. You really don’t have any friends at this point. Unless you count a few of your clients. Or Hanzo. You’re not sure if Hanzo counts. You don’t think he’s sure either. But he hasn’t made any effort to get rid of you. Perhaps he also wants a connection to Genji, and since there are so few, he’ll take you. The feeling is mutual. Maybe. Point is, your social circle is a line. 

“Where we heading?” You finally murmur, trying not to picture your chair with seat belts that strapped over your chest or a holoscreen map. 

“You weren’t paying attention?” Hanzo had spent the morning ignoring you, like a champ. 

“I’m not saying I was drunk, I’m just saying we weren’t throwing punches at each other this morning. Or if punches were being thrown, I was definitely too wasted to notice. I’m not seeing any bruises.” You sighed when he immediately resumed ignoring you. It was a joke when you first tried to fight him, a play you made when you were well into your inebriated comfort zone. But now that he kept dodging you it was becoming a challenge. You hadn’t been challenged in a while. At some point you became content with easiness. There was no need to try anymore. Maybe there still wasn’t a reason.

“Why does it make you mad? Is it a sloppy assassin thing? Because I can give you my resume. I’m not that sloppy. Best in a one on one situation but, c’mon.” You spy a hostess doing the rounds with a tray of drinks and wave her down for a soda, showing it to him with a smile.

“You strike me as someone who drinks to get away from your problems.” Hanzo snapped. You shrugged, opening the can and taking a drink.

“You strike me as someone who uses new problems to get away from old ones.” You looked at him, now that you had his attention. He had that calm face again. The one that seemed to just wipe away your edges. It was the worst thing you’d ever seen. You were almost tempted to take him out and fulfill the contract. Maybe if they offered you more.

“You’re deflecting.” Well doesn’t someone know it all.

“Genji deflects.” You are very clever. You are very proud of how clever you are.

With a sigh Hanzo stops looking at you. He doesn’t look at you again until you’re in Brazil, enjoying the safety of not being in a plane. You don’t even notice it at first. You’re too busy being happy about the ground. And then your luggage. You were more than a little excited to get out of the airport. You didn’t notice that he was watching you until you were already out of the airport. 

“What?”

“Tell me about my brother.” 

You end up in a fancy taxi, thrilled with the wall between you and the driver that keeps your conversation private.

“What do you want to know? Shouldn’t I be asking you this?” You’re hesitant to take a trip down memory lane, but if one of you is going to be uncomfortable both of you might as well be. Two uncomfortable jackasses in a tiny space. 

“I want to know how you came to be friends.” Hanzo’s shoulders were tense. His hands were gripping the quiver in his lap. You would save your questions for later. Maybe.

“...He was, my teacher. In a way. Taught me hand to hand combat. I guess I took to it well because I don’t use guns. Sparred with me regularly. Kicked my ass every single time. I never came close to winning. Blackwatch was small so we hung out a lot. The three of us were always together whenever we weren’t working. Watching movies, playing games, the games didn’t go well there weren’t that many options and none of us liked monopoly. We played once. Just once. Genji took the hat, even though J-” You choked on the name. Couldn’t say it. Couldn’t keep talking. Couldn’t do this. You stare out the window, watching your reflection in the glass. “He was there. Even when he didn’t want to be. I’m… I’m glad he’s alive. I’ll probably never see him again myself but. It’s in the past. No reason to dwell.”

“I’m sorry.” He spoke so quietly to you. Like he had to apologize but didn’t want to disturb your very important window gazing. It’s like getting enough iron; if you don’t gaze upset out a window in a taxi at least once every couple of weeks you’ll get a backup of angst and have to stand on a rooftop in the rain chain-smoking until you see the sunrise.


	8. Pirates are more Fun than Scientists anyway

It’s been two months since you’ve started tagging around Hanzo Shimada. In those two months, you’ve learned a few things. He wants to be on the right side. He likes sake and only shares it with you if you sip. He dislikes his hair down, despite the fact that it looks good down. His dragons are beautiful. And, to your complete delight, he loves treasure hunting. Or at least the romantic ideal of treasure hoards. It is the best thing you’ve ever heard. And when you saw that your next stop, Numbani, has a pirate themed escape room you immediately start begging him to go.

“Please Hanzo. Please. You’ll like it. You’ll love it. I swear. You’ll love it more than you love brooding in the meditation room. You spend so much time in there Hanzo you love it. It’s us, stuck in a room, but with puzzles. And Pirates! That’s the whole theme it’s amazing. You’ll love this. Listen. Would I ever steer you wrong? About fun? Anything else it’s like context I wouldn’t steer you wrong about fun or murder I would most certainly steer you wrong about whether or not a gross food was good. If I bit it, and it was awful, I would have you bite it. Anyway don’t worry about it Hanzo. Pirates. Hanzo?”

Hanzo was watching you with the most uninterested look he could muster. It was fake. You could see the sparkle in his eyes that showed up when he was trying to hide a smile. The corner of his lips were threatening to twitch. It was a losing battle and you were the victor. You reached across the elevator and prodded his arm. “Hanzoooo.”

“I will consider it. On one condition.” He closes his eyes and takes a drink of his tea. Hanzo’s pulling out all the stops. This is how he would beat you at poker. With closed eyes, sunglasses, and a cup of tea. Or, just staring straight at you doing whatever he wants. You don’t know how to play poker.

“Yessssss hell yeah going to go play the pirate room what do you want I am ready the deal is made.” You have never been so excited in your life. It’s not a high bar but damn if you aren’t bouncing where you stand.

“No more drinking before noon.” He looks so fucking smug that smug son of a fuck.

“You, you’re playing dirty.” You squint and point at him. You love your whiskey with eggs. Or bacon. Or toast. Or nothing whiskey is a complete balanced fucking breakfast Hanzo.

“Do you want to go play your pirate game?” Even his voice is smug he knows he’s won you’re going to eat your fucking arm.

“You know I do you oatmeal bar.” You hiss. He doesn’t question your choice of words. He just smiles at you, and waits. Because he’s right. He’s won. He’s finally gotten his victory over your love of the drink. Your sweet sublime wine. You’re lovely darling vodka. Your sexy minx bourbon. Okay you have a toxic relationship with the stuff but you didn’t ask his hot ass opinion. Honest. His honest opinion. That’s what you were thinking.

“Fine. You have a deal. I hate you.” You offer your hand. Hanzo shakes it, still smiling. You hate this man. He dropped your hand when the doors opened, guiding you down the hallway to your new (temporary) home. The apartments larger than the other two he had. You’re immediately bound to the balcony, dropping yourself into a patio chair and flicking open a book.

“Adder. Come unpack your things.”

You assume Hanzo put aside a linen cupboard for you. You slept in the living room for both of the previous apartments. You could’ve rented your own place. Especially in Numbani, if you were going to have a comfortable apartment with warm working water it would be here. The city was magical. You were walking around with all your implants visible and no one batted an eye. It was thrilling. But Hanzo was already disappearing into the hallway with your bag. You follow him into a decent sized bedroom. Most of it was white and grey, but there were enough orange spots to make it obvious. This was your room. He had a room prepared for you.

“Oh.”

Hanzo left your things on your bed, nodding to you on his way out of your room. As though it was no big deal. But it was. And for a moment, you wanted to run. To flee the country. You had a place in South Africa. It sucked just about as much as the rest of your places sucked. You could go there, hide out for a moment, answer some of the calls your clients had been leaving you, kill someone in a private mansion in hollywood and vacation in the warm California sun. It was the smart thing to do. Before you realized you really had a friend. Because you were proven incapable of keeping friends.

But you didn’t run. You took your things and put them away. Made a shopping list for whenever you got bored enough to leave the apartment. Sat down on your bed with a book and read. Without getting drunk. Without panicking. It’s the first time you haven’t lied to yourself in at least two years. 

\--

It is the best day of your life. The first room was amazing. Everything felt like it was a real boat. You wasted a good five minutes marveling excitedly at every detail from the floors to the porthole windows. You’re in love with the metal work making the bars of the ‘brig’. Hanzo’s leaning in the corner, watching you excitedly scurry around the small space. You’re aware that he’s humoring you and that’s perfectly fine. Your mornings have been sad and tasteless. You are going to enjoy the hell out of this.

“We get to find the way out!” You announce, immediately beginning to search the cell. 

“I’ve never seen you happy before.” Hanzo remarked, finally coming out of his corner to help you look.

“What are you talking about I’m happy all the time.” You find a mouse. A fake mouse. Neat but it’s not going to help you get out. 

“Drunk is not happy. This is happy. Ah. I found lockpicks.” You’re too excited to argue with him about whether or not you’re happy. Also too excited to decide whether or not he’s right. You’re on a ‘pirate ship’. Solving puzzles and shit. Looking for enchanted pirate gold or whatever the story of this room was you have already forgotten. 

The puzzles aren’t very hard, especially since the two of you regularly break into actual high security environments in your work lives. But it’s different. Special. There’s a magic involved with it that you adore. Even Hanzo’s smile doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. You move to the deepest part of the ship, discovering the evil tainted treasure that you have to ‘cleanse’ to release the ‘spirits’ and free yourselves from the ship. It’s fantastic. You throw your arms around Hanzo’s shoulders when you finish the room, your delighted laughter filling the room. You gather up every photo they offer for sale. You will remember this forever. It will go into your security deposit box back in Switzerland. Safe and sound.

“One of our sessions for the other room just canceled, it’ll be full price but do you want to take their spot? You seem to be having a great time.” A small, bright eyed receptionist offers, motioning to the other door.

“Yes, we will. Thank you.” Hanzo answers before you get the chance to ask any questions. He smiles at you and nods towards the door. They put your pirate photos away with your other things, and blindfold the two of you before ‘transporting’ you to another world.  
You feel like all of your happiness gets vacuumed out of you immediately. The two of you are trapped in individual plexiglass cells. In a lab setting. You bite back the discomfort. It’s still fun. It’s still for fun. You search until you find that there’s a crack in your cell that lets you reach for a ‘corpse’ and pull off a keycard, unlocking both cells. 

The puzzles are too familiar. The process is too familiar. The room is closing around you and the worst feeling is that you don’t have the desire to leave. It’s familiar. You fumble with your hands, you’re no longer laughing or giggling or gleefully announcing that you’ve found a scrap of paper that has the answer to the next clue. You don’t even realize that a wall has been opened with a glowing exit sign until Hanzo gently removes the flash drive from your hand and guides you out.

“My apologies, I just remembered that we have an appointment and it’s across town. Thank you though.” Hanzo smiles at the worried looking worker, giving her a tip and collecting your things. The two of you are silent on the way back to the apartment. You try to focus on the city, the humans and omnics wandering around. Living together. You could live here. When you’re retired from all the bloodshed and violence. If you live long enough to retire. When you get to your room you arrange your keepsakes on the dresser. You keep the photo prints in your hands, looking at them on the bed.

“I should have asked what the other room was. I apologize.” His voice is soft. You look up from the pictures, a smile forced on your face.

“...Did you like the pirate one?” You were gripping a little too hard on the photos. Trying to keep it together. Assassins didn’t panic. You were an assassin, weren’t you? A killer. 

“Yes. Thank you. “ Hanzo held up a mug he’d bought, of the two of you smiling next to the pile of ‘treasure’. You relaxed, looking back at your own pile and smiling. “It was fun. We should do it again. Just. Maybe more. Fantasy stuff. That’s fun. Less, work.”

“... If you need to talk about it-”

“ I don’t. Sorry I. I don’t. It was just, the surprise. I’m fine.”

Hanzo leaves, returning unexpectedly with two glasses and a bottle of sake. He sat next to you, handing you a cup before pouring some out for both of you. The two of you sit like that for a while; you drink until you fall asleep. You wake up the next morning with your blankets tucked around you. Warm, and safe.


	9. Thinking through decisions is for Nerds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I'll be good at chapter titles.

The assassin had demanded his payment upfront. The target was difficult and too many had failed trying to eliminate him. The customer agreed, reluctantly. The assassin didn’t even move until every single penny was safe in a secret bank account. Then he moved. He laid a trap, knowing that his target wouldn’t be able to resist acting on an operation of this scale. And the assassin was right. His target was there, standing on a rooftop, bow out and arrow drawn. The target was completely unaware of his presence. 

He stiffened when the arms came around his shoulders, rough hands scraping against his neck. He couldn’t move. He opened his mouth to scream but couldn’t. The orange glow of an omnic’s face was resting on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe none of them figure out that we work together now. You think they’d check assassinbook. I don’t blame them, I only use it to rsvp for the fundraiser marathons.” You chirped.

“You don’t do marathons.” Hanzo put his weapon away, walking close to examine the assassin’s face. 

“I also don’t use assassinbook. Probably not what it’s called. Stabyourfriends.com? Killsforbills.net? No wait I have it. This is going to be good are you two kids ready? Eh hem. Kill.me . It’s beautiful. I’m so proud of myself.” You grab the assassin, shuffling him over your shoulders into a fireman’s carry. “Everyone down there handled?”

“Of course. Your com is on?” Hanzo walks away from you, looking back down at the mercenaries below.

“It’s built into my ears so. I hope so.” You carry your soon to be victim down the stairs, cheerfully talking the whole way.

“And then I finally found an ice pick after hours of searching online, ordered it rush delivery. No one has ever explained to me why so many people want their enemies assassinated with an ice pick. I mean, most of them want it quiet with poison and heart attacks and all of that but it still, it’s still a lot of people who want the ice pick. Does it just sound cool? Haha sounds cool. I wonder if that’s it. I wonder if people who want other people dead just shamelessly love puns. But that’s such a lazy pun. Put some thought into having your enemies murdered. They’re already paying major cash to have it done. You get me right? Of course you do. I should found a union. Think anyone would join?” You ask. You’re not sure he would answer you even if he could. 

He probably wouldn’t join. Which is, a shame. Just because you’re about to kill him doesn’t mean he couldn’t benefit from a couple of minutes of union membership. Maybe you’d even kill him gently. Non-union members get dumped onto the ground and stabbed in the eye with an arrow. Unfortunate.

“Anyway. Should we hit up the club, or grab two large pizzas and go home.”

“Two pizzas?”

“I’m hungry Hanzo.” You wait a few blocks before dropping your visor, easily sliding into the chameleon that hides your implants away.  
“A night out would do us well. If we remember to drink lightly.” Hanzo exits an alley and joins you. You gasp and place a hand on your chest.

“A man after my own heart. You’re a treasure Hanzo. My absolute favorite friend. I mean. You’re also my only friend but if I had more than one you would be at the top of the list. I would have your photo as the background image on my phone. I would buy a phone so I could have you as the background image. It wouldn’t have service or anything because that’s pointless I would have it only to show my other friends your picture, incurring their jealousy and wrath. I would then have to kill them for trying to assassinate you. Which would bring us back to square one, of you being my only friend.” You grin at him. “That’s why I don’t go out and meet people. I’m avoiding the bloodshed.”

Hanzo was shaking his head but he was still smiling. You hadn’t been drinking as much as you used to. You’d have to make the best of the night. Get your wink on. Go home slung over Hanzo’s shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Wait, maximize on the potato, drink vodka. Vodka exclusively.

The bar is small and not as excellent as Acidic, which to this day is your favorite club on earth. Someday you’ll go back and finally see what Hanzo looks like drunk. For now, you’ve got a 16-ounce glass of multicolored joy and you’re eyeing the snack menu. 

You hear laughter and glance around to see what’s going on. Hanzo is sitting at a table, looking incredibly uncomfortable while a small group of hot drunks flirts with him. You lock eyes and despite your encouraging eyebrow wiggles it’s clear he’s not into it. So you, the good and wonderful friend that you are, take it upon yourself to stride over to him and sit on his lap facing him. 

“Brought you a drink honeydrop.” You hand him your glass and kiss his cheek. Hanzo smiles and rests his free hand on your hip. He sips at the drink while staring at you. The group hovers for a moment but when you make it clear that you’re not getting off his lap they wander off.

“Thank you.” Hanzo’s almost too quiet for you to hear. He’s not smiling at you anymore. Instead there’s a thoughtful, almost pensive look on his face.

“You’re welcome. I bravely sacrificed my drink for you. Buy me another one?” You grin. So help you this man will buy you your drink.

“No.” His lips are smiling again but his eyes still have something there.

“I won’t get off your lap until you do.” You challenge, resting your arms on his shoulders like you’re getting comfortable for the long term. Hanzo squeezes your hip as though to remind you that his hand was still there.

“Then I will carry you out.”

There’s a silence that sits between you for a few seconds. Questions that you just aren’t going to bother asking. You’re not drunk or sober enough to ask them.

“... Will you buy me some smothered french fries then?” You reach behind you, tapping the order screen on the table. Hanzo reaches too, his beard scratching against your shoulder. This may not be your brightest idea. Comfortable, yes. Smart, probably not. Oh well. Fuck it. You’re getting food out of it.

By the time your food arrived you’d come to the conclusion that if Hanzo was so comfortable, then you were too. He didn’t seem bothered; he was wearing that calm look that always made you calm too. Eating his sliders without spilling seemed a bigger concern than your presence on his lap. It was a pretty big concern, if it went down you’d both end up with stains. Your fries were good enough to make you forget the insult of not getting your drink after all. Nothing was awkward under a solid cup of white cheese sauce and jalapenos and literal hunks of lobster. Lobster. On your _fries_. You could’ve cried. You didn’t even mind when he stole a few of your fries. There is no conflict when there's good food.

“Better than a whole pizza to yourself?”

“Hanzo, I would eat three of these and a whole pizza and still have room for garlic twists don’t challenge me.”


	10. Muscle Memory

It took you almost six months of knowing Hanzo to convince him to spar with you. Because apparently having a drunken assassin asking you to fight them is unsportsmanlike. You fight just as well drunk as you do when you’re sober. You know, from years of fighting drunk. Hanzo challenged you to prove it.

Fighting Hanzo was a significantly different situation than what you remember of fighting Genji. For starters, you and he were more evenly matched. Hanzo was a ranged fighter but he had trained in the same way Genji was. He might have even helped train Genji in the way Genji had trained you. Which gave you a bit of an idea.

You waited until he came close enough to bring a hand down on your shoulder, dove to wrap your arms around his leg and lifted. Hanzo was flipped over your shoulder onto his back. You danced away and tried not to laugh.

“You have no idea how many times your damn brother flipped me like that.” 

“He taught you how to fight.” It wasn’t a question. You nodded, waiting for Hanzo to get into position before you bounced forward again. He was on the lookout now, watching for his own style reflected in you. The two of you were sweaty, a little gross, and you were starting to get tired. You flipped Hanzo again, your thrill yanked away when he dragged you down with him. He rolled over you and pinned you. 

“You’ve got good technique.” He hovers over you, holding your limbs in place. It’s a loose hold. You could get out of it easily enough with his bare skin so close to your hands. But that’s not what it’s about. You’re trying to assure yourself you can put up a fight even if somehow, someway, you’re completely disarmed. Plus you don’t want to sting Hanzo. Especially not while he’s hovering over you, looking like that. You should probably end the session before you start biting your lip or making comments. You really want to make comments.

“Fine, I give, I give. You win.” You snort, tapping your hand on the ground. It took way too long to get Hanzo to actually fight you, and even then it was more of a lazy spar. Still, it was a good training exercise. You hadn’t gotten that sort of riskless exposure in a while. “We’re going to have to do this on the regular though, it was fun.”

Hanzo’s slow to get off of you in a way that makes your heart beat harder than the fight was. Sometimes the only outcome of your casual touching is the comfort that has come between you two. Sometimes though. Sometimes it creeps up your spine. Sometimes it murmurs that there might be more than you’re seeing. And that concerns you. Makes you think about the pain that still traces over your heart in thick scars. Makes you push it down deep and busy yourself with literally anything. 

You’re ready for the night’s mission two hours early. It’s simple enough. Go in, destroy an extremely delicate weapon prototype, go out. You want to go in alone. It’s the sort of thing you have done dozens of times over. Second nature. But Hanzo refuses to listen to reason and the two of you go slow through the small facility. If the prototype sells it would put this little firm’s name on the map. But apparently it shouldn’t. So it won’t. You’re not really concerned with the why of what you’re doing. It pays. Hanzo asked you to. That’s all you need to know.

Security seems lax. The guards seem more sparse than you would’ve arranged. They’re moving in an even patrol which is loose and predictable. It’s easy enough to get in through the roof. Easy enough to short out the camera system and sneak through the halls. Easy enough to find their main server room and release your nanites into their hardware; testing Hanzo’s theory that your nanites can attack anything you set them on. Looks like omnics aren’t safe from you anymore. That’s. Great? You’ve never really been asked to kill one before. You’re not sure if this information is as useful as it should be. It really just sort of makes you uncomfortable.

Things only get sticky when you find the weapon itself. You’re not sure how it works and really don’t care. You don’t use guns. Only use knives when someone specifically pays you too. You avoid touching it though, instead you grab a chair and smash the weapon to pieces. Whenever an expensive looking component breaks off you let your nanites onto it. That’s when hell breaks loose. An alarm sounds and dozens of guards poor into the room. Where did they come from? Why the fuck weren’t they outside? It hits you too late that the entire situation is a trap. You had caused enough havoc before you got into the room, it wasn’t until the weapon was being broken that they came. Shit. You act quickly, diving for the closest attacker and pulling him into cover with you. He goes down quick and the rest seem aware enough to stay away from your reach. They focus Hanzo. 

You force yourself to stay calm. You look around until you spot the handgun on the dead guard’s side. Perfect. Let’s see if you remember your shit. You peer from behind cover and begin to shoot. You don’t bother getting fancy. You aim for the legs. Big enough targets, less likely to be guarded by vests. You go for one headshot when it presents itself. There’s a moment of confusion among your attackers as they realize that you are in fact shooting at them. Hanzo takes advantage of their confusion to start scattering arrows into them. The more you shoot the more familiar it is. You never used this model, but it’s a pistol in your hand. You didn’t spend weeks in the range working your hands until they hurt to forget how to use it.

Hanzo is at your side before you can move to his. He leads the way out, glancing frequently over his shoulder to make sure you’re following. As soon as you can drop the pistol and follow him out a window. You brush your hands on your clothes. You wince when you notice Hanzo’s arm is bleeding. 

“Shit let me get that.”

“I’m alright.” Hanzo grabs your hand, moving you faster through the alleys. His blood drips down his arm and onto your hands. You would love for that not to be happening. You would love to stop moving and at least wrap his arm in gauze. But there’s a tension that you don’t know how to navigate. So you hold on and when you finally get to the apartment you push him onto the couch, running to grab your medical box.

“I used to work in Blackwatch’s medical bay when they were short staffed.” You start, carefully beginning to wipe away the blood. The wound wasn’t bad; a surface injury that wouldn’t even need stitches.

“Is that where you learned to shoot?” Oh, he noticed that. Of course he noticed that you were in the same room almost dying. You sigh.

“No… yes. My...my ... I guess my lover taught me. Our commander ordered him too. He’s, I don’t know. Dead. Probably. I always figured he was dead.” It felt like ripping off a bandaid. A really painful bandaid. You’re careful with the antiseptic.

“How did he win your heart?” Hanzo’s voice was soft. The tension was finally gone. He looked tired.

“I… I had. Have. amnesia. Can’t remember most of my life. Got rescued by Blackwatch. During my training he left flowers outside my door, trying to help me pick a new name. It was this big, lengthy gesture and I guess I was just, blown away.” You spoke softly as you wrapped the bandage. You carefully looked over it to make sure you did it right.

“What name did you pick?” Hanzo meets your eyes and you have to look away. 

“... It doesn’t matter. I’m not the same. I was… just. Less toxic. Literally and figuratively.” You gather up the medical supplies, relieved you didn’t have to break out the big materials.

“You’re not toxic.” He touches your arm so softly; it alone sends aches through your heart. You sigh and get up, smiling sadly as you carry the box away.

“Not to you.”


	11. Trust

There is a comfort that you feel around Hanzo. Acceptance. You’re a mess, hardly in control of your life, full of impulses with little control. You live for the fight, the danger. The Clash. The two of you stumble alongside holding each other up by sheer virtue of your constantly knocking into each other. You haven’t taken an assassin contract since you’ve met. You haven’t even taken a call. Still, when you’re journeying to your next destination you tap into your accounts to rent a place. You have stolen a lot. It’s not a big deal.

For once, you get a yard. Most of the time Hanzo prefers to live on the higher floors of apartment buildings. It makes it harder for an attacker to invade your home and it gives him the sort of advantage an archer would rely on. That’s not to say that you don’t also take advantage of height when given the opportunity. Dropping down on opponents scares them more than your visor ever would. Though you’d like to think that it’s quite the scary visor. You’re very intimidating. But this area doesn’t have many open apartment buildings for short-term renters. So you get the luxury of a small fenced in yard and a tiny house. 

You are technically supposed to be meditating. Hanzo has incense going and the two of you are on surprisingly comfortable mats in the yard. It would be good to clear your mind, but you can’t help but wander. And your eyes happen to have an overlay of your books. You could argue that you’re technically clearing your mind. You’re not thinking about your jobs. You’re not thinking about the past or the future. You’re not even thinking about Hanzo and he’s right next to you.

Although you are now. You close the overlay with a shake of your head. You prefer reading a projection. You quietly roll to your feet, trying not to disturb Hanzo’s meditating. He seemed to enjoy it and you didn’t want to ruin it. You rarely engage your feet. They’re like your eyes, prosthetics rather than implants, from your mid-calf down. Good for absorbing shock and muffling noise. You avoid going barefoot though. Or as barefoot as possible. It’s useful for moving silently. Not useful when you want to wear shoes.

You shuffle through the kitchen, trying to wrangle some hot water from something for some tea. It’s the strongest thing in the house. You suspect Hanzo has something hidden somewhere but you doubt he’d put it anywhere you would bother to look. Which means it’s in his bedroom. You generally avoid going in there. Not because you’re respecting his space but because you just want to keep lines where they are. Letting things blend more than they already have is a recipe for disaster. Which you may be ignoring regardless. It’s like you have a leak in your sink. Instead of actively dealing with it, you’re letting it build and build until your sink overfills and ruins the flooring in your bathroom. Pretty soon it’ll soak into your bedroom carpet and take over the whole place. From warm home to bog in the blink of an eye. You’re still not going to do anything about it, but you’re pretty sure the leak is getting on up there.

Probably has something to do with the pull you feel when Hanzo comes in from his meditating. And the fact that you already have a cup of tea waiting for him on the counter. It’s the same tacky mug from your pirate adventure. Your first one. You’ve done at least a dozen of the silly rooms, though this time Hanzo’s the one who plans it all out. Always on the lookout for certain, uncomfortable themes.

“Had to use sugar instead of honey. We forgot to buy some.” You remark with your lips already against your cup. It was an adorable coiled snake mug. The handle was its head and it had the goofiest expression you had ever seen. You had given Hanzo the nastiest look when it appeared in your rotation of ceramics. He pretended like he’d never seen it before. You claim you hate it. You do not. It’s a snake mug. C’mon.

“I’ll stop at the store after I pick up dinner.” Hanzo polished off his tea and rinsed out the cup. The only thing you two really cooked was tea. Sure, both of you were more than capable of cooking. So far it’d all been edible but honestly, you didn’t cook enough for any mistakes to crop up. Someday it would happen. The smoke. The misery. The ordering out when you probably should have anyway. Hopefully, it would be Hanzo cooking. But somewhere deep in your heart you know. You know it will be you. You, and pancakes.

“Hannzzzooo, while you’re at the stooooore-”

“No.”

“Haaaaaaanzo.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Hanzo fixed an angry stare on you. You tried throwing your arms around his torso and wiggling your eyebrows. It was ineffective. He was a brick wall of willpower. You weren’t even sure why you were trying in the first place. It hadn’t worked before it wasn’t going to work now. Which was unfortunate. There was nothing wrong with getting a little tipsy. At home. While meditating. Hell in your case it would help with the meditation. Can’t read and be drunk at the same time. Although you used to do it quite well. Maybe it was like riding a dented bicycle.

“I am not buying anything you can get drunk off of.” He removed your arms, circling away from you. “I will bring you something with garlic though.”

“Garlic naan? I saw a place a few blocks east.” You lean on the counter.

“I’ll bring you extra.” 

“Hell yeah, Garlic naan. I love you. It’s so good. Anything with garlic is good. I would say that you couldn’t put it with like chocolate but I bet you could if you tried hard enough. Oh mole! You know, from Mexico? That, probably has garlic in it right. I wonder if we could get some here. Nevermind don’t go to more than one place unless we’re not eating straight naan for dinner. Which, I would. I might. Depends on what else you’re getting.” You rattle off, pouring yourself another cup of tea. You miss the sudden stiffness in his shoulders and the glance he gives you before Hanzo goes out the door. 

\--

It’s late enough when Hanzo returns that you’re already gearing up to go look for him. He’s pale and looks exhausted. You don’t ask. He’s not dead, that’s the end of your immediate concern. If he wants to talk, he will. For now, he just sits down and accepts the water you give him. You put away the few groceries he bought, noting the only thing he had dinner-wise was a few packages of fresh warm garlic naan. You would have to cook something. Not pancakes. Never pancakes. Or you could be a responsible adult and order something. You already have your phone out when Hanzo finally explains himself.

“I saw Genji.”

“Oh.”

You set your phone down and sit next to him, resting your hands in your lap. You can see the old guilt and frustration twist itself back under his skin. 

“Did you speak to him?”

“No. How could I? I...I would like to. But I can’t.” There’s more there. But you aren’t good at reading people. So you wait and hope that your presence is comfort enough. Hanzo’s hands clench and unclench like he wants to reach out but won’t let himself.

“I don’t think he would trust me to talk with me. I’m not sure I deserve that trust. Not yet.” His voice is angry but soft. A subdued hiss. You get frustrated with his hands and shove yours in the middle, curling your fingers into his. You get what you want; his hands go still. Frozen.

“I think he would trust you. I trust you.” You avoid looking at him but you’re not lying. You don’t trust much of anything. Certainly not yourself. You’ve proven to be a world-class liar. Sober you is only marginally less of a liar than drunk you is.

“Do you.” His tone makes you give him a sharper look than you intended. He doesn’t react to your anger so you narrow your eyes.

“Yeah, ass. I trust you with my many many secrets. Of which I have very few I’m not a secretive person. I guess the only secret I haven’t told you is…” You stop and take in the anger and grief Hanzo was trying to bottle up. He kept you from running what little life you have down into the ground. The least you could do is. Confide.

“I don’t have feet.”

“I know that.” 

“I don’t have eyes either.”

“What is the point of this.” He starts to pull his hands away but you keep a hold on him. 

“There was this lab. Pristine Arc. They wanted to test some new implants. They specifically wanted to test them on someone with military experience who had no, attachments. Blackwatch was infiltrated at that point. Someone let slip Reyes had a lil’ assassin who fit the bill. When the bomb went off, they took advantage. Took me 3 years to get out.” You put your free hand on his face, meeting his eyes. “My name used to be Thorn. I killed a lot of people involved but if it got out that Adder was Thorn I could get back on their radar. But it’s safe to tell you because I trust you.”

“You’re worthy of trust Hanzo. Tomorrow we’ll go find Genji, alright? You two can talk. Without trying to kill each other. Or at least talk before you try to kill each other. I’ll put up an arena. Get some streamers. Make a banner out of felt and puff paint. Is puff paint still a thing? I never said it wouldn’t be a tacky arena. Don’t be picky.” You drop your hand from his face, wiggling it in the air as you talk.

Hanzo didn’t smile. But he did lean forward and rest his head on yours. “I’ll protect you.”

“Not why I told you. I’ll kill anyone who comes after me. Hell, I’ll steal their credit information it’ll work out. Buy me some new pants. Designer. Gucci. Does Gucci make pants? Or is that like. Perfume. I’m going to steal someone’s pants. Besides you’re the one getting assassins sent after you. I’m protecting you, remember?”

Hanzo snorted. “You’re the only assassin that got close.”

“And now here I am, in your house, eating your naan. Clearly, you need my expert help.” You grabbed your phone, returning to your less awkward emotional task of ordering food. Although garlic does make you emotional. “Garlic fries? I’m getting garlic fries.”

This time you don’t miss the way Hanzo smiles into your hair or the way he clings to your hand. Fuck it. Who needs to fix sinks anyway. You’ve never cared about working water in your life why start now.


	12. On the Hunt

You’re not sure why you’re so surprised you can’t find your old friend, the black-ops cyborg ninja. It’s as though you’re surprised you can’t sift powdered sugar out of sand. Wow who woulda thought. Can’t find Genji. Where is he? We don’t know. It’s a magical mystery.

You’ve been at it for days. The two of you have split up over a radius, searching for any sign of an omnic that matches Hanzo’s description of Genji. It makes sense that he eventually got full body armor. You can’t imagine it was very comfortable walking around with one nip still swinging in the breeze. Living its life. Having a party. Now it’s constrained forever. Rest in peace. You wonder if he’d appreciate your descriptions of his nip’s business. Or if you’re talking about it at all. Probably not. Hanzo sure didn’t.

Everything is so quiet. People are slowly leaving the streets, going home as it got darker. It was such a peaceful area of town. Sleepy. Almost gave you storybook vibes.

You’re heading for a small hotel. Looking the streets isn’t working out, but if Genji’s still in the area then he’s staying somewhere. Probably not one of the bigger buildings. Too expensive, too flashy. He would pick a family owned place. Bigger than a Bed and Breakfast, small enough that it’s not a hotel chain. There’s not a ton of places and most of them hadn’t seen anyone that fit your second-hand descriptions of Genji. You wave hopefully at this receptionist but you don’t have much hope.

“Hi, do you have an omnic staying here, about this tall, white with green accents, got a v on his face, completely naked? No clothes.” You motion as you speak, barely getting your description out before the receptionist shakes his head. You shrug and head out, flicking your hand to call Hanzo.  
“Hey, I haven’t seen anything. You?”

“Someone saw him with an omnic in this park. I’ll send you the coordinates. Meet me here.”

You brought up your visor, following the blip through the streets. It was a pretty large park. The kind that had running paths and a playground. There was even a large pond complete with water lilies. You had never actually seen that plant in person. It seemed, fake. If you weren’t on the search for a Genji you would jump in. Poke it. It was late no one was out. No one would know that you jumped in the pond to mess with the lily pads. Unless there were security cameras. Then someone would know but you were only going to be living in this city for a few more weeks, a few months at the longest. You could jump in and then just immediately move out. You would never have to go to the grocery store and meet someone’s eyes and have them just know, that you jumped into the park’s pond.

You really only stay out of the water because you see Hanzo in the distance. You hope Genji actually turns up tonight. The more days pass the more urgency Hanzo wants to speak with him. The more days pass the more you can see the hope fading that it’ll actually happen. He’s upset. He’s frustrated. He can’t meditate any more than you can. And one of you has to do it. It’s like the dishes, you can’t just have it there, not being done.

Hanzo’s leaning on a table, staring out of the park. He smiles at you as you walk up to him though there’s still too much tension on his shoulders. Of course he saw you coming. You’re glowing orange. You’re not exactly the picture of stealth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the trees. For a moment there’s a trace of hope that Genji found you. Which, again, not hard. Still glowing. But you can clearly see the rifle in the trees. You don’t understand why Hanzo isn’t taking cover when you realize that you have night vision. He doesn’t. He really should get a pair of glasses or something. 

Maybe you’ll grab him a pair.

If you live.

You break into a run and slam into him, ignoring the pain that burns through your torso as multiple bullets rip through you. Maybe they’re just flesh wounds. Hopefully? You’ve lived your whole life in denial, probably, and you aren’t going to be realistic now.

“Hanzo, trees!”

You didn’t need to tell him. His bow’s already drawn and dragons are already roaring through the previously silent expanse. Surprisingly, this is your first time seeing them in their full glory. They’re, really fucking big. And really fucking bright. And you are really fucking bleeding. Your nanites are designed to speed up healing and prevent blood loss while your body gets to work. But apparently, multiple heavy caliber bullets are a little more than they can handle. You just need some gauze. And some whiskey. Can you have some whiskey now?

“Adder!” Hanzo is at your side in a blink. He’s so angry. You hadn’t seen him this angry since your early jobs together. Probably why two dragons just screamed off into the distance. 

“I’m fine. Just, just need a. A field kit. We don’t carry those. Why don’t we carry those neither of us… are armored. Why are the two assassins out with no armor Hanzo?” Your knees are so shaky. Your steps are slow and off balance. Oh he’s picked you up. Okay. That’s happening. That’s fun. There you go. Off into the distance.

“You’re not fine. We need a doctor.” He’s dead serious. And you’re about to be dead. You suppose it matches. A doctor is dangerous though, for both of you. The last thing you need is a medical record. The last thing he needs is to be caught on camera. You can’t die and get him killed in the same day. Gotta space that shit out. 

“Just get me...home… I can stitch.” Your voice sounds weak enough for you to finally detect your own bullshit. You can stitch someone else. You couldn’t hold a needle steady right now. You can’t even hold your vision steady. You’re so lightheaded. So tired.

“Stay with me! Do not die.” He sounds so stressed. You want to help.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Being helpful isn’t in your list of talents. You are hilarious though. And Hanzo’s okay. So that’s, those are some good things right? Yeah.

“Adder, please. Please.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open. You think he’s crying. You really don’t want him to cry, but you don’t think you can do what he wants. Which is unfortunate. You would really like to not die.

“Hanzo?” There’s a voice. Familiar.

“Your friend is injured; please let me provide assistance.” Another voice. Unfamiliar.

“Please.” Hanzo’s voice. You’re going to miss it if you can remember things when you’re dead. Which you probably can’t; you can’t even remember things now. 

You close your eyes as a warm light comes over you. The pain eases and you feel peace surging through you. You have the slightest weightless sensation and the world fades away. You would rather hurt and stay with Hanzo. But you’re not sure that’s a choice you can make.

You could always haunt him. Knock his bow off the rack repeatedly. He’d know. 

You hope he’d know.


	13. Familiar Faces

Death sure looks a lot like your house.

Death sure feels a lot like a car hit you in your stomach.

Death sure has a lot of sunlight in your face. You would love for that light to move. Death? Death c’mon. Death it’s bright.

Okay, you’re not dead. You’re not sure how you’re not dead. You should be. You’re going to want to be. You can already feel Hanzo’s disappointed face. The angry eyes. The making you carry a giant box of emergency medical supplies around for the rest of your days. Rest in peace, not having to carry things. You will be remembered.

You feel stiff getting up, but you can already tell your wounds have healed. There’s some scarring but it’s not bad. You slowly get dressed, testing the limits of your body, making sure no other injuries remain. You don’t find any new spots of pain. Just stiffness and that can be worked out the old-fashioned way. By pretending it’s not there. Or you could always ask Hanzo to massage out the stiffness. But he could be very mad at you. Or just gone. Or both that’s why he’d be gone.

Oh well. Time to face the music either way. You wander into the living room, putting on your best grin despite knowing that you looked like exhausted shit.

“Hey can I drink now cause I feel like I deser-oh. Hi Genji.” Genji’s sitting on a chair opposite Hanzo. He looks, interesting. His body armor is quite well made and he is still living life without pants. You’re proud of him. You wish you could do the same but that’s how you get arrested. His face mask is off, surprisingly. He has a few new scars. You think. He didn’t have it off enough for you to really remember what he used to look like. Beside him is a serene looking omnic, who’s quite literally floating in the air.

“Thorn! I’m glad you live. I worried Master didn’t get to you in time.” Genji wasted no time rising from his seat and greeting you with a hug.

“I guess that’s how I’m not dead. Thank you.” You try to nod to the floating omnic, who you’re guessing is Genji’s ‘master’.

“No thanks is necessary. It is an honor to save an old friend of my student’s.” The omnic’s voice is calm but has strength weaving through it. You already like him. 

“Your student is crushing my lungs. All your hard work for not. Air, oh sweet air, I’ll remember you fondllyyyyyy” You dead drop and Genji, being the good friend that he is, lets you. Thanks Genji.

“It’s been a long time Thorn. I thought you were dead.” Genji’s smiling. You can’t help but smile back, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Likewise. It’s Adder though.” You lean around him to smile at the floating omnic. “Adder. Nice to meet you.”

“My name is Zenyatta. It’s nice to meet you as well Adder.”

Genji sat back down, motioning you to join them. Hanzo hadn’t looked at you since you’d come in but you sat next to him anyway. You expected the angry. The angry does not bother you. Well, it does bother you a bit but Genji is there and has likely been talking to Hanzo so who cares.

“Why Adder?” Genji asked while you stole Hanzo’s tea. It was kind of cold and gross but that’s what you get for stealing someone’s tea off the table. The kitchen is right there. You have at least 3 sources of hot water.

“I’m venomous.” You wiggle your hand. Genji grabs it and looks carefully at the implants.

“What happened?”

“Nothing to worry about. Just some stuff.” You take your hand back, trying to look subtly at Hanzo while drinking his tea. He looks tired. You doubt he’s had any sleep. You purse your lips and look to Genji.

“Was I out very long?”

“Maybe about 12 hours? Gave us time to, talk.” 

Good, good. You’re glad these two got the chance to just talk without trying to kill each other. You want to reach out and take Hanzo’s hand. Just to make sure you’re still there with him. And he’s still there with you. But you don’t want to push. He’ll let the anger go when he lets the anger go. It’s not like a cranky Hanzo has ever kept you away. Although now that you think about it he didn’t actually try very hard.

“I was actually going to ask something before you woke up.” Genji started, almost hesitantly. You smiled and motioned for him to continue.

“Go ahead, pretend I’m not here. I can turn my ears off if you want. Maybe. I’m not actually sure if I can do that I can watch like. A movie in my head. Something with loud noises. Oooh that one movie about the guy with the whip who keeps breaking into old tombs and shit those are awesome.” 

Genji shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. We came to ask you to join Overwatch, brother. You would be welcome as well Tho-, Adder. You are still one of us.”

“Oh, I...I’m kinda. Different? Not you know. Morally, acceptable. In most situations. I mean. Thank you, I appreciate it but you know, I’m practically-”

“We will join.”

It’s the first time Hanzo’s spoken since you’ve woken up and you’re surprised. You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head.

“Do you want us to go with you, or will you call for us.”

Well then.

“We are based in Gibraltar. It’s not a large organization. Your presence would be appreciated.” Zenyatta sounds amused. 

“Pack your things. We’ll leave soon.”

Hanzo got up and walked to his room. Presumably to pack. You open your mouth to speak but Genji looks a little too intrigued. You sigh and finish off the tea.

“I better actually pack. If I wait too long he’ll pack for me and I like having both nipples covered at most times. Gotta have that full coverage. Let one go too long and you’ll lose control. It’ll run wild through the towns. Drinking, gambling, getting involved with other half-naked people in one of those dimly lit 24 hour McDonald’s where all of the workers have dissolved into mist and french fry steam... That sounds like a great time actually. Damn if it won’t be chilly though.” Now everyone is staring blankly at you. Which, while rude, is understandable. You’re not even too sure what you’re talking about.

“Do you, want anything? We’ve got tea and like 2 fruit cups. I haven’t touched this stove. I’m not even sure if it works.”

Genji shakes his head. “Are you sure you’re different?”

You stand up abruptly, hand to your chest, gasping dramatically. “How, could you. I was going to turn green, just so we could match. Like best friend necklaces. Except not actually magnetized at the neck. I’m pretty sure neither of us can actually fuck with magnets all that much. But now.”

You back up, pretending to start to cry. “Now I’m just gonna be Orange. I’ll match with the fruit cups. They understand me.”

You sweep into your room with a swish of your arm and hear Genji snort in the living room.

“Not different at all.”


	14. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex is in here, heads up.

Apparently, Genji and Zenyatta have commandeered your garden for meditating. Maybe you should actually try to do it. There must be something good going on if your entire social circle is doing it. And now that your social circle is technically more than just one person, that actually means something.

You wouldn’t mind hanging out with Zenyatta. He seems nice. He saved your life. He floats. He’s seemed to get some of the edges off Genji. Maybe. It’s only a matter of time before he flips you. You sense it in your bones.

You suppose there’s lots of opportunity for flipping to happen now. You’re going to be part of Overwatch again. Or technically, for the first time. Unless whoever’s leading it now wants to resurrect Blackwatch too. You would be all over that. You’re just not the hero type. Vigilante, maybe. Like best case scenario. You figure it would stop being a vigilante scenario when you’ve walked out of their house decked out in sapphires. Or maybe you could just. Not do that last part.

You’re really not paying much attention to what you’re packing. Your mind keeps wandering to Hanzo. He barely spoke to you. Didn’t really look at you. You want to give him space. But you also can’t focus on anything else. You throw a bundle of socks into your bag and peer out the hallway. Your guests were definitely still outside.

You take a deep breath and stroll right into Hanzo’s room, closing the door behind you. He was folding clothes into his bag and barely looked up. 

“Will an I’m sorry make it better?” You stepped away from the door but hesitated to get closer. Hanzo dropped his shirt and took a shaky breath.

“What were you thinking?” You can’t read his face. He sounds angry. But his expression only has a tint of anger. You run a hand through your hair and open your mouth but he keeps speaking.

“You almost died. We were nowhere near a hospital, we had no medical supplies if I hadn’t run into Genji by chance… You would have died. You can’t risk your life like that!” Hanzo paced the room. He was getting tenser by the minute and you felt that leaking into you.

“Why not?” You retort. Well, that stopped him. He turned to you with jaw dropped and you could feel the anger about to bubble up. You held up a hand and shook your head. 

“That didn’t come out right. Listen, Hanzo. I cannot, in any capacity, handle someone I love dying again. It would end me. And yeah, maybe I’m wrong, maybe no one’s dead, maybe Jesse and Reyes are going to show up singing show tunes but you know what, already went through the process of ‘all my friends are dead’. It already got to me. And then you got to me and… You’re, you’re too important to me if the choices are ‘you die, then I die’ or ‘I die, and you live’ Guess what, I’m gonna choose option 2. Every single time.” You are not going to cry. You will not. You’ve got your hands on your head and you’re looking everywhere but at him. You sorta want to cry.

“I’m-” You’re cut off when Hanzo pushes you roughly against the wall, smothering whatever nonsense rant you were going to use to follow up your rare moment of emotional honesty. It only takes you a moment to kiss him back. Your arms wrap around his neck, digging your fingers into his hair. His tongue brushes your lips and you don’t hesitate to part them. You both taste like that shitty tea. When he pulls away you pout despite needing to breathe. Sometimes suffocating is worth it.

“If you’re going to kiss me like that I’m just going to protect you more.” You snort. Hanzo tries to pull a stern expression but you can see his eyes laughing again. You pull him back into a kiss. It’s softer but no less hungry. You’re overwhelmed with desire and want. You don’t want to separate your kiss until the sensation embeds itself in your skin. One of his hands moves to hold your face while his other hand creeps down your side. His free hand finds your new scars and trails over them. You made a soft whine when he pulled his lips away much to his amusement. He trailed small kisses from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck. He ground against you, pushing you into the wall while he bit and nipped at your throat. When you couldn’t help but moan he stopped, smirking at you.

“We have guests, my love.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you I’ve pulled shit out of Genji’s ass before and he’s seen me naked if you think I care if he hears me- I will go out there and tell him I’m fucking you to his face Hanzo. His Face.” You hiss. You’re still whispering though. That’s not helping your bluff. Although it’s not a bluff, you’ll gladly tell Genji, it’s just better to do it over text so you can throw in a winky face or four. You don’t really want to tell Zenyatta either that’s just embarrassing. 

Hanzo laughs so you lunge, licking up his throat before gently biting his lip. He gives you that thoughtful look at his before picking you up and tossing you onto his bed. You do the right thing and shove his neatly packed luggage off the side before taking off your shirt. Because it was in the way. Clearly. He doesn’t seem to care either way. His lips are on yours drawing your breath away, his hands are on you like he’s determined not to leave an inch of skin untouched. You’re impatient when Hanzo stops to remove his clothes, tugging yours off with the slightest huff. You forgot how stiff you felt earlier. Whoops. But then his hands are on you and you don’t really care. His lips are on yours and his hand is between your legs and you’re moaning into every kiss. His fingers work until you’re on the edge and he retreats, reaching over you to his nightstand drawer.

“Prepared?” You raise your eyebrow, grinning.

“If you can talk I’m doing something wrong,” Hanzo muttered, tearing open a box of condoms. Which just makes you grin more. You’re tempted to keep talking about something, anything, whatever comes out of your face and you know something will come out. But the only thing you can think to say is a soft, breathless murmur. 

“I love you.”

Hanzo freezes, wide-eyed. He melts slowly, dropping to press his lips against yours. “I love you too.”

He whispers it into your ear, a slow soft repetition as he presses into you. He began to thrust with each murmur, eyes dark and focused on yours. You chant back, weaving your fingers back through his hair, drawing him in for frantic kisses when your voice got away from you. His hands pull yours down, entwining his fingers with yours, holding your arms to the mattress. Hanzo grins at the almost petulant look you give him. He keeps his forehead against yours, lips fluttering against yours, until his hips go flush with yours. He captures your cry in his throat as your orgasm hits you, his following shortly behind.

"...Promise me you won't trade your life for mine." Hanzo whispers, the slightest trace of fear in his eyes.

"No. Could you promise that to me?" You ask. He's silent, which is your answer. You smile and squeeze his hands. 

"I can promise to be more careful. I'll carry a field kit. I hope you're real excited to get stabbed with a needle and thread."

"...Alright." Hanzo sighed, closing his eyes. He seemed reluctant to move away but eventually he managed the willpower to get up off the bed. You really didn’t want him to. You would gladly spend the rest of the week tangled with your friend-now-lover doing absolutely nothing. So like, your regular weeks. Except a lot more naked. Which is really just the biggest fault in your previous lifestyle. Why were you always wearing clothes. Would either of you have let things lie at all if you were struttin’ around town naked as fuck.

He probably would not have let you in his apartment. You can’t blame him that would’ve been weird.

“Well. I’m gonna shower. I intend to give Genji a greeting card with the play by play written in glitter glue and I can’t do that if the smell gives me away. I mean. I could. It just wouldn’t have any meaning. And why would you spend money on a card if you’re going to ruin the meaning? Plus the glitter glue. You don’t spend money on glitter glue pens after you’ve ruined the surprise.” You collect your clothes off the ground, taking a moment to kindly return Hanzo’s bag to the bed. It’s a lot messier but you tried.

“Glitter glue? Really?”

You wink at Hanzo. “Of course. You earned that glitter glue. I’ll speak with my asshole-gram supervisor about upgrading you to our shiny rhinestone lettering package but you’ll need to get in the shower with me right away.”

“Will we be getting clean in this shower?” He asks, catching you as you pass and pulling you close.

“Nope!” 

“Good.”


	15. You still don't like Planes

“Genji! You did it!” There’s an adorable woman bouncing on the door to the plane you’re supposedly boarding. She looks familiar, but your experience with Overwatch agents was, limited.

“Yes. I found my brother and an old friend.” Genji motions to the two of you. The woman waves enthusiastically and flashes towards you in a burst of blue, holding her hands out to shake.

“Hello, I’m Tracer! It’s great to meet you, Genji said your name was Hanzo? And yours is?” She’s adorable and you love her unconditionally.

“Adder.” You reply, shaking her hand. She ushers all of you into a sleek aircraft. The sort that made you dislike flying to begin with. Too many memories. But you’re going in the wrong direction if you really want to avoid them. At least you’re not going in alone. Surprisingly. You drop your bag and wait until Hanzo’s seated to drape yourself across his lap.

“That’s not safe.” Hanzo scolded. He wrapped his arms around you anyway. So you win. Take that, safety.

“From what I remember, Tracer was, is, Overwatch’s best pilot. It’s only unsafe if we’re getting shot at.” You smile, hearing a thank you shouted from the pilot’s seat. You adjust until you can comfortably rest your head on Hanzo’s shoulder, humming contentedly. This was so much better than traditional plane seats no matter how much you pay for it. Making it lean backward did not make it more comfortable. It was cold. There was a shit ton of other people. It was ‘socially unacceptable’ to whip out weapons and work on them. Just. It was bad.

“When did, this, happen?” You lazily looked over at Genji, who you assume was staring at you two. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was, also, reading a book right now. There really was nothing better than being able to look someone in the eye and read about elves at the same time.

“Three hours ago.” You grin. Hanzo goes red and you hear a sharp breath. He sighed heavily and frowned at you. 

“We met a little under a year ago when Adder took a contract on my life.” Hanzo started. You winked at Genji and did a finger gun. He was tense and you’re pretty sure the finger gun was not appreciated.

“He was hot so I changed my mind.”

“We both knew you. It was nice, having another link to you.”

“Plus I kept breaking into his apartment.”

“It was once. I gave you keys after that.”

“We should both be worried Genji, he gave his own assassin keys to his home. Willingly. Just because I’m hot. It’s because I’m hot right? Hanzo? Hanzo answer me. It’s because I’m hot. That you gave me keys. Hanzo.”

Hanzo shook his head with a small smile. He didn’t answer he just pressed his forehead to yours, trying not to laugh. Rude. You loved to hear him laugh. He didn’t do it enough. Maybe now you’d have more opportunity. More of a reason to creep into his bed in the morning and kiss him until he laughs. Unless you were in the same room. Which, made sense. Then you could just do it whenever you would be an unstoppable menace. He must have sensed your devious intentions, because he gently pressed his lips to yours. 

“I’m happy for you,” Genji speaks softly but he’s visibly relaxed. You’re glad. It would be really awkward if he was against the entire situation. You would probably have to physically fight him. And then you’d get flipped. Damn those flips.

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” It would be nice for both of you to have found someone. Genji certainly deserved it. 

“I, well. Perhaps.” You would bet money the answer is ‘yes’ and the follow-up answer is ‘you know them’. You just grin at him, names slowly coming to mind.

“Is it someone, from old Overwatch? Hmmmmmmmmm?” You wriggle your eyebrows, handling his situation with significantly less maturity than he handled yours. 

“Is it someone, from medical?” Zenyatta butts in. You burst into delighted laughter. Poor Genji. 

“Is it someone, angelic?” It’s hard to find the breath to keep being a little shit when you’re laughing so hard, but you find a way. It’s your great burden. If you aren’t a little shit then who else would be? Who else would be so self-sacrificing as to take on the mantle?

“Is it someone, merciful?” Zenyatta, apparently. What a brave monk. 

"If Genji wants to discuss his personal life he will. You are on my lap, it was expected he'd ask.” Hanzo’s voice cuts above the laughter. You snort and kiss his chin. 

“Alright, alright. It’s not like there wasn’t a bet about it back in the day. And by that I mean, there was no bet. Blackwatch would never bet on the romantic exploits of our favorite Genji. Who is, our only Genji. Which only emphasizes how much we would not bet a thing. But if we did, then it definitely wasn’t in a piggie bank anywhere. And it might be blown up. So even if we did, the evidence is completely gone. Which is disappointing. Because there would have been a significant amount in this non-existent piggie bank.” You try to look innocent. But you’re sort of wondering the time frame. At least you could have the satisfaction of being right.

“That might be one of my favorite things about you.” Hanzo murmured.

“I’m an asshole?”

“... Perhaps. I meant that you can hold an entire conversation by yourself. It’s endearing.” He smiled, giving you a squeeze. "Ignore them, Genji."

“It's alright I… I am seeing Angela, yes.” Genji said softly. You smile at him, think of something, and smile wider.

“If she breaks your heart I’m assassinating her.”

“Adder.”

“I’ll assassinate her Hanzo. With her own stick. She’s got this stick that shoots millions of tiny- Eh I’ll let you see it. It’s a stick okay. The Assassination Stick. The Doom Stick. The stick where all things began and all things shall end when I assassinate her with it. Sorta just. Whack. Maybe a jab. If I’m feeling fancy. He is our only Genji I’m not sure how fancy I’ll feel.”

Hanzo has his eyes closed. Gathering up the patience. To keep you from murdering his brother’s girlfriend. While it would be poetic and mirroring and all that, brother almost killing brother, brother’s lover killing brother's lover no almost you’re a professional; anyway it would be pretty fucked up. Unless she did actually break his heart then she would be the one fucked up. You weren’t joking you were just going on about it. Protective asshole time was a go.

“I doubt that will happen, but thank you for… that.” You throw Genji a thumbs up and settle back into Hanzo’s shoulder.He’s so warm. He shifts his hand to brush through your hair.

“This will be interesting.” He whispers to you. You smile lazily. Interesting is a fun way to say chaotic. You’ll keep that in mind.


	16. Sprouting Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture Cw, it's a lil' fucked up just be aware.

There’s a lot of stuff you’ve forgotten. Your name. Where you were born. Who your parents are. Your birthday. Whether or not you turned off the oven at the one apartment you actually baked in (if so, it’s definitely too late now). The one thing you forgot. That you probably shouldn’t have forgotten. Is that Angela Ziegler is fucking terrifying. And she is staring you down. While you’re wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital style gown and some pumpkin printed underpants. Because there’s never a wrong season to rock that look.

The underwear. Not the. Hospital gown.

“I need to know where you got this done.” Dr. Ziegler is the iron spined soul you remember her being. Which is so uncomfortable. You sigh and run a hand through your hair.

“Dr. Ziegler, if Adder does not want to tell you-” Hanzo’s stiff at your side.

“It’s important, Mr. Shimada. I need those medical records.” You’re surprised she’s even letting him join the conversation. Neither of them will back down. Especially not with Genji hovering outside the door, just in case. Like Ziegler needs backup. You sigh and touch Hanzo’s arm.

“It’s… fine. You aren’t going to get those records doctor. Just… take a seat… let’s do this.”

\-- 6 years Prior--

The first thing you remember, when you wake up, is that your world just exploded. Literally. Your home, your life, was a pile of smoking rubble. All you had wanted to do was find your Commander. He would know where to go from here. What to do. And he had to be alive. If anyone could have survived it was Gabriel Reyes. But you couldn’t find him. There was a rescue team but they didn’t help you look. Instead, they tried to manhandle you away from the site, and when that didn’t work, they stabbed you in the neck with a syringe.

And now you’re here. You’re naked, lying face down on a metal table. Your head is cold, and you’re in so much pain. There’s a fire from your tailbone to your head. And a sensation like something is under your skin. In your skull. It’s like nothing you’ve ever known before. It hurts. And you’re crying.

“Subject Thorn is awake.” The voice is cold. Methodical. You try to move but you can’t. Your limbs are restrained by metal clamps. 

“Activate the Core.” What core, you want to ask. What are they doing? You can’t speak. And when they do, whatever it is they’re doing, you find that you can scream. The pain intensifies. Your head is pounding. You feel a sharp awareness of something. A computer. Your thoughts? You’re so dizzy. You can’t. You can’t. 

You pass out.

\--

The next time you wake up you’re confused. It’s dark. You’re on your back now. It doesn’t hurt anymore but you still feel strange. There’s definitely something there now. Were you hurt in the explosion? Wouldn’t you have noticed? Maybe not. You were hysterical. Frightened. Desperate. You could have been hurt. Bad enough to need, whatever this was. Alright. You can deal with that. It’s one thing on your back. Your friend had it so much worse. Genji. Where was he? Was he alright? He wasn’t at base. Neither was Jesse.

You felt fear chill your body. Jesse wasn’t at base. He was fine. You had to remember that. The plants he got you were destroyed though. That was fine. You were both alive. And now both of you had a little bit of tech in you. He would find that funny. Probably make a comment. An inappropriate comment.

You try to sit up but can’t. You’re still being held down. For your own safety? Or. You take a breath. It feels weird to blink. You’ll tell the doctor.

“Hello? I’m awake. Hello? Is Dr. Ziegler here? Can you get her? Hello?” For a while there’s silence. Then you hear the sound of a door opening and footsteps. Why aren’t they turning the lights on, you wonder. 

“Agent Thorn. Good morning. Dr. Ziegler isn’t on your case. I need to run some tests. There is a neural implant running down your spinal cord; I need you to access an auxiliary program called the Oracle protocol. Specifically thermal sensitive infrared settings. Tell me how many people you see.” The voice doesn’t have a very good bedside manner. He also doesn’t explain things very well. But you think, and it happens. The world snaps into color. Mostly hues of blue, except for the four very red human shapes surrounding you.

“Four. Why-”

“Good. Now I need you to access the night vision, please. Hit the lights.” He cut you off. And then… the lights? They were already off. Or maybe someone turned them on when you had your thermal vision? You switched...applications? And saw in clear detail. You were in a medium-sized room. Perhaps bigger than the average surgical room. There were cupboards and sinks on the walls and a large light fixture above you. Was it a surgical room? There were cameras. And these people.

You knew none of them. But you didn’t know every doctor that worked at Overwatch. You were lucky to know Dr. Ziegler. One of them had a rifle. Why did he have a rifle? Was something still happening?

Where was Jesse?

“Can you read this?” The one who was speaking to you was a thin, unhappy looking bald man. He thrust a paper in front of your face.

“04G95-00NM.” You watched him nod and put the paper down.

“Switch to Vision, Enhanced.” 

You obeyed, and it went dark again. Someone flicked a switch and you winced at the sudden bright lights flooding the room. Another paper was shoved into your face. This one with tiny, tiny letters. You went to squint but then they just. Got bigger. On their own. What…

“G932-TN-02L3” You almost whispered it, forcing yourself to speak loud enough for them to hear.

“Even better than we hoped. They should function on long ranges. A sniper’s gaze. Agent Thorn. Switch to regular vision, and then pull up a diagnostic screen, give me your readings.”

You obeyed and watched your vision change. You couldn’t read the little letters anymore, even squinting. You tried to keep calm as a screen appeared before you. But it wasn’t. Before you. It wasn’t in front of your face. But you could see it.

“Blood pressure… 1..118 over… 7..77… Heart...Rate…” It wasn’t a projection. It wasn’t your… it wasn’t your brain… seeing things. It wasn’t whatever they put on your spine. It was your eyes. They weren’t your eyes. They weren’t real. Your eyes had been fine. You had seen out of them; you had searched through the rubble. You saw the table they had you in you saw it with your eyes. These weren’t them.

These people weren’t Overwatch.

What was happening.

“Who are you?!”

“That’s enough. Sedate Subject Thorn please.”

\--

You woke up screaming. Your skin hurt. All of it. You felt sticky. There were hands and swaps and the room smelled of rubbing alcohol and tears. You screamed until a needle was plunged into your neck. And you’re pretty sure you kept screaming as you fell asleep.

\--

You wait until you hear no one in the room. You know there’s no one there because you can hear down the hall. The floor above you. The floor below you. They did something to your ears, too. You weren’t awake for that. They haven’t had you test it. Yet. But you did it on your own. You wonder if they know.

You keep your eyes closed as you reach for your diagnostic window. You don’t need to open your eyes to see it. You’re scared but you need to know what they did to your skin. There’s something new there. The Chameleon Protocol. You open your eyes and overlay the diagnostics with the real world. You wish there were no cameras. You wish they weren’t watching you. You wish you weren’t here. But you are. And all you can do. Is see what they did to you.

You access the protocol. And do what you think chameleons do. You turn orange. The color spreads over your skin and you realize that buried underneath are nanites. Your eyes tell you they can manipulate light. It’s an illusion, but a convincing one. You can’t see any patches, any seams, any sign that you aren’t actually orange. You deactivate the protocol when you hear footsteps coming up to your room. But it’s too late. They know you’re awake. They were watching. Because they’re always watching.

“Thorn took to the chameleon nanites perfectly. We can begin the deep tissue applications now.” They're surrounding you. Bringing trays and equipment. They're not done working. 

“No. Get away from me.” You hiss. You struggle against your bonds. You want them to let you go. You want to go. You want to find your Commander. Or, anyone. Someone. You want help.

Jesse.

You feel a strange pulse at the back of your neck. And then you can’t move. You didn’t realize. That they could control the node. Control you.

They approach you with large syringes full of silver shifting fluids. Not fluids. Nanites. More machines. And those needles are long.

\--

You once made a promise. That you would wait for your friends to rescue you. You would wait, and wait, and wait. Because they were going to come. Blackwatch didn’t abandon its own. They would find you.

But Blackwatch is gone. All the agents are either dead or the traitors that brought it down. Reyes is dead. Genji is dead. Jesse is dead.

There is no one left to find you. You are the only one still alive. And you are alone.

The pain of realizing that everyone is dead hurts. Worse than when they dig into your throat, adding in a vocal synthesizer to your suite. Worse than the still lingering pain in your skin. They’re gone. You’ll never train alongside your commander again. You’ll never get the chance to try to beat Genji again. You’ll never… You’ll never get to wake up and find that Jesse got back from his mission and just collapsed into bed with you. His silly hat still clinging to his head. You’ll never get to set it on the nightstand and stroke his hair until he wakes up and smiles at you with his cute sleepy grin. He’s gone. They’re all gone. Your world is gone.

You barely react when you wake up to find your feet removed. Replaced. Your new feet are disturbing to look at and you want to hide them. Behind pants. Socks. Shoes. They’re sleek and dark grey and. You take a deep breath. And let it out slowly. You pull up your diagnostics. Your new feet are designed for stealth. They can absorb all sound from your footsteps. Allow you to fall from significant distances, provided you land on your feet. They work with the nanites in your muscles that make you faster. Stronger. More agile. 

You wonder if Reyes would have appreciated this upgrade to your skillset.

You don’t think he would’ve let it happen.

You think. What a coincidence it is. That he’s dead. And they were right there. You put the thought away for later. But you’ll remember. You don’t forget anymore.

\--

It’s been a long time. You’re not sure how long exactly. Could be just a few months for all you know. There are no clocks. No windows. No gauge of natural light or any sort of time. You tried, for a while, to listen to footsteps. Measure time in people’s shifts. But you came to realize that this was a compound. People worked here. People lived here. There were no shifts. There was no time. Sometimes you wonder if you didn’t do something awful in the life you can’t remember. Sometimes you wonder if you didn’t die in that explosion. If this isn’t hell. If you don’t deserve to be here. Are you still guilty if you don’t remember what happened?

It looks like you are. Feels like it. Feels cold.

They allow you limited access to the internet. No news. No social media. You can watch movies. And read books. That’s it. So you read. It’s easy to lose yourself in the pages. To forget what’s happening. You can let go. It’s how you think you’re staying whole. Well. relatively speaking. You suppose you’re still physically whole. Somewhat.

You can tear through an author’s entire life’s worth of novels in one go. You let their imagination become your world and you escape. It’s bittersweet. Burns something in the back of your throat that makes you want to. Makes you dream of violence. Of rage. And then you let it go. Because you can’t afford even the false hope that anger offers. That there’s a chance, somewhere, somehow, that you could get revenge. But there isn’t. There is no justice. Not for you.

You don’t fight when they come in with more implants. You don’t fight at all, anymore. You can’t, not really. They paralyze you and put you to sleep. You’re spending your entire life sleeping. And reading. And sleeping. You’re tired. You’re empty. You’re alone.

You close your eyes as they cut into your face. Connect the new implants with the wires they’d left behind during earlier operations. They’re small. Little dots. You’ll find out their purpose in time. It hurts. But you can’t bring yourself to react to the pain. It’s familiar. And you’re tired. You’re so tired.

\--

The hands are the worst. They tear off the skin. Dig into the flesh. You don’t really understand why they bothered to leave any hand at all. You appreciate it, sure. It’s nice having your hands still. But it hurts. They take their time digging around to connect the implants to the stream of nanites in your body. Self-replicating. As long as you get enough materials in, salt, iron, minerals, they’ll keep building. They do what you say, up until a certain time or distance. That’s the point of the implant snaking down your spine.

You heal fairly quickly. The nanites in your body speed up the healing process. The pain is gone. And then you’re left with the numbness. The cold. You wonder if you prefer the pain. You don’t ask their opinion. They don’t care.

You’re almost fascinated when they order you to prime your Sting protocol. Your fingertips produce tiny needles. Those tiny needles fill with nanites. You can do so much with them. Attack the nervous system. The heart. The lungs. Your nanites are violent little machines. And you’re filled with them. You’ll always be filled with them. You’re ready to bite. But you can’t. You can’t.

\--

Their training routines would make you sad if you had the capacity to feel sad. Instead, you squashed everything down. Ignored it. Let it go. There was nothing left to miss so why miss it. You ran their drills. Performed impressively. You learned and improved and pushed yourself further. To get better. To get stronger. To become something deadly.

When they start to arrange sparring matches between their subjects you kill, every time. There’s no hesitation or playing. You’re there to kill. Then to go back to your cage. There’s blood on your hands and yet you rarely spill a drop. Maybe you should.

You figure they wouldn’t appreciate it if you got creative with your tactics. They designed you a certain way and they wanted you to utilize it. Stealth. Not brute force. It’s a skin you’re used to so you sink right in. Fine. You don’t feel any urge to rebel. Why bother? Even if you got out there was nowhere to go. What would you even do? Your only skills were in killing to begin with. Maybe a private militia would take you if they didn’t decide to shoot you on sight first.

Maybe you wouldn’t mind that.

\--

You would have thought that a break in the monotony would have been welcome. Rather, it was annoying. You were in the middle of a book and didn’t appreciate one of your handlers bursting in and ordering you to come with him.

There was screaming, crashing, the sounds of explosions and death. Looks like someone finally got persnickety. That was unfortunate. Someone should do something about that. Oh that someone was you? What a surprise. What a revelation. You definitely didn’t see that coming when you were forced out of your shitty plastic bed by the program in your spine. 

You didn’t recognize the uniforms of the attackers. You didn’t care. You joined the fray with abandon, grabbing an opponent only long enough to scrape your needles into their flesh before moving on. There’s a trail of corpses behind you and gunfire breaking out. Bodies. Blood. The main lab was almost overtaken. At the center was a woman in purple and a man in black. Very original. Not at all cliche. His mask was cool though. They looked your way when your handler pointed you to them and gave the command.

“... Sombra.” The man’s voice sounds like he’s already dying. Technically, he is. You just haven't gotten there yet. He should enjoy his last few minutes with that sweet, sweet mask. It was probably going to get thrown away. Sadly. The woman nods and a keyboard flickers to life before her fingertips. Which is interesting. It would be nice to have a chat before you watch her lungs collapse in on themselves. You could if you went for her other organs. There were other targets though it was a shame.

Then you feel the pressure on the back of your neck just. Gone. You stop walking.

“There you go, feels nice doesn’t it?”

On one hand. You don’t appreciate apparently getting hacked. On the other hand. You’re pretty sure she just set you free. 

“What do I owe you.” Your voice sounds strange to you. It’s yours, it’s just. Got something in it. A smile? Were you smiling?

“Well. I could use some distractions. If you wanna kill that guy for me, that would be great.” The woman pointed behind you. At your handler. You are smiling now, for sure. You spread your arms at the elbow and give a little bow stepping backwards.

And then you’re on him. Inducing a stroke. Grabbing the pen out of his pocket and jabbing it into his eye. For good measure. 

You feel the anger you’ve held for so long bursting out of you. It’s so cold. You kill whoever you come across, taking special time to hunt down every other subject and tear them apart. Sometimes you use your nanites. Sometimes you use whatever’s around. Scalpels. Paperweights. Shards of a mirror after you break it with their face. It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re dead.

You don’t stop until the whole compound is quiet. On your final circle, you pick up anything of value. Credit cards. Money. Jewelry. You steal the nicest looking clothes that will fit you and wear them on your way out. You pop open a bottle of tequila someone had in their office. The heat pouring down your throat is the first time you've felt warm in years. You take a look at your diagnostic window. The control program is gone. Deleted. Replaced with a firewall like nothing you’ve ever seen. Not that you’ve really seen any. You’re protected. The only thing you notice is a small purple skull. So you activate it.

“Hey.”

“Why did you help me?”

“I could use a skilled assassin. Don’t worry, I pay well.”

Maybe you should. You’ve killed in the past. You just killed a whole lot right now. It’s a way to make money. Get yourself something nice for once.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

“Good. They call me Sombra. You?”

You open your mouth to say Thorn. But it stings. You think of the word ‘subject’ in front of it. Then you think of the good, kind person who used to wear that name. You try to think of yourself as that person but you can’t. You can’t.

You look down at your hands. You’re dangerous now. Toxic.

The nodes on your face project a visor covering your face like an opaque glass mask. Bright orange. You like it.

“Adder.”


	17. When you gotta recruit but you don't like the guy so you send the worst recruiter option

Your least favorite part of coming back to base after a mission is Ziegler cornering you and Genji for an inescapable fussing session. Well. She didn’t have to corner Genji. You she had to hunt down. It was always hours of being checked over. Making sure nothing was broken, that you weren’t injured, that you weren’t dead. You tried convincing her that you weren’t fragile but then she fixed you with her cold steel eyes and you couldn’t argue back. Why was she so unnerving. You could knock her over with a sneeze damn it. You only escaped her worrying by the sweet, sweet siren call of a meeting.

The organization had doubled since you joined. Not that it was that impressive, there was a small handful of you at the time. It was surprising how many of you actually lived on base. The only ones who didn’t were D.Va, Lucio, and Pharah, and that’s because they still had day jobs. Well, Tracer technically lived in England with her girlfriend (a sweet girl) but she was there all the time anyway. 

“Hey, mind if I take a look?” The man sitting to your left was new, well, to this overwatch. He was the master engineer, Torbjorn you think. He had just been brought in a few days ago and was currently pointing at your feet. You shrug and tug up your pant leg, plopping your leg on the table. Hanzo sighed to your right.

“He was the best engineer in all of Overwatch, it’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to install rocket skates or something else ridiculous.” You rest your hand over Hanzo’s. He relaxes and turns his hand to link it with yours. He’s not so subtly watching Torbjorn examine your foot.

“You wouldn’t be interested in any upgrades, would you? I can do better than this in my sleep.” He doesn’t sound impressed. He did build some of the best machinery you’d ever seen; it would have to take a lot to impress him. You tilted your head and thought it over. Having more functional feet would give you more reason to not wear shoes. But you really loved shoes. And you still weren’t entirely thrilled with the idea of being worked on.

“Maybe later. I keep getting Ziegler’d too often as it is. If I let you into my feet she’s going to come after us both.” Ziegler’s rage would consume you all. You knew true fear.

“Adder, legs off the table please.” Winston walked in with Ziegler shortly behind. You shrugged an apology to the engineer before dropping your leg back down. Pretending like Ziegler wasn’t looking at the two of you suspiciously. 

“First of all let me just say that we’re glad to have you here, Mr. Lindholm. He’s going to help us get our facilities up to standard. There will be a lot of work and we may all need to pitch in, but it will be worth it to get the base to 100% functionality,” Winston began. “He also brought along with him a Bastion unit, who’s currently quarantined until we can verify that he’s safe to interact with.” 

That was interesting. You thought all the bastion units had been destroyed. That one survived and was brought to Overwatch by Torbjorn, was something of note.

“The rest of you have your mission briefings? Any questions?”

You flicked your hand, glancing at the briefing Winston had sent you. You were with Hanzo, as usual, though occasionally Genji was added to your team. You both shared the same training so there was less fuss when figuring out a battle plan. Seemed like Soldier 76 was sighted in Italy. You didn’t quite understand why Winston wanted you after him; it’s not like he was doing anything that you weren’t doing. Sending you was a particularly pot and kettle situation. Unless that was the point.

“Are we recruiting this guy?” You asked, switching the projection to just his masked face.

“...I would like to avoid it. He’s dangerous. Violent. Unpredictable.” Winston holds up a hand when you open your mouth to interrupt. “Just make contact. If he doesn’t want to play nice, we’ll have to turn him in.”

If he doesn’t want to play nice you’re probably going to have to kill him. It’s not something you bring up. Winston doesn’t really like it when you offer to assassinate people. Surprisingly very interested in having you paralyze people. He just doesn’t want you to stab them after you paralyze them. Which is really just a wet blanket on the entire situation. Oh well. Gotta learn to be a better person eventually no knives for you.

You have your orders. No use in jumping ahead of the details just yet. Maybe the two you would get along really, really well. Maybe he would be thrilled about the whole situation. Who doesn’t want to bring along some friends to raid a bank.

Tracer drops off the teams in a loop. Always the same continent, just in case an emergency needs multiple groups to converge. Winston’s always hesitant about running too many missions at the same time and for good reason. He’s playing a chess game with a handful of checkers. So he does his best to keep you far enough to actually make splitting you up practical but close enough that you can support each other. You sort of wish you and Genji were switched though. You would rather die in the desert heat than be ass deep in the cold. 

It was so fucking cold.

You were walking behind Hanzo, your arms wrapped around his waist and your hands shoved under his shirt. If he had a problem with your cold icey death hands he didn’t say anything. You suspected that he thought that the whole situation was funny. 

“You are going to have to let go eventually.” Hanzo finally shook himself loose of your grip, stepping to the side to warm your hands in his. “We’ll have to work on some gloves for you.”

“I’ve tried it makes it hard to sting people.” You kiss his hands and then let go, motioning to the rooftops. 

“Let’s find this guy.” 

The city is sprawling but Soldier 76 has a pattern. There was a weapons developer that gained quite a lot of money and influence when Overwatch fell. It’s the best lead you have. So you cross through the streets, watching the blip on your map that shows you were Hanzo is. You circle to the opposite side of the building, trying to maintain nonchalance while you search for your not-target. Because you are not killing him. This still feels weird.

“Stop. I see a sniper.”

You immediately slide out of view of the nearest rooftops when Hanzo’s voice comes into your ear, pressing yourself against a building. “Got a sudden urging for some grapes?”

“No, it’s not Talon’s.” Hanzo answers as his blip moves. 

“Hm. Rooftop?”

“Yes.”

“Could be his.” You thought 76 worked alone. That’s what most of the information you had said. But if he didn’t, and this was his partner. You couldn’t really get in there without knowing where 76 was. It was like trying to approach Hanzo without a beat on you. 

“Looking for me?” A man stepped in front of you. Not within Hanzo’s line of sight, now that he had moved to avoid the sniper. They were clever, but not informed. He had his rifle aimed at you but he was still close enough. If you were feeling belligerent it wouldn’t end well for either of you. Luckily you were impressed with his coordination and curious as to who his partner was.

“Yeah. Wanted to have a little talk with you, 76.” You relaxed into a lean. You heard Hanzo curse under his breath.

“I’ll need to move buildings to get you into sight Adder. Kill him if he moves.” Hanzo growled, his blip navigating across your map.

“Then Talk.” 76 kept his finger on the trigger, which was very friendly. “Who are you.”

“Name’s Adder. I also have particular issues with the people you’re hunting down, so the organization I’m with wanted me to come say hello.” The blip was racing across your map.

“What organization. Talk before I shoot.” Why did Winston choose you-you're not going to recruit this guy to a pizza making class. 

“Overwatch. We’re bringing it back, so to speak. Less legal but also I’m not allowed to kill people anymore so also more legal. Which is good I gue-”

“Overwatch is Dead.” 76 snapped.

“What part of bringing it back was a strange and confusing statement.” You would raise your eyebrows at him if your visor was down. 

“Adder, I’m almost in position.” Hanzo’s blip was steady, he was going up.

“Let it stay dead. You and whoever you’re working with don’t need to go around playing hero.” He sounded pissed. But also, the finger was off the trigger. So sweet. You’re getting somewhere. You’re so proud of yourself.

“Listen, sir,” You let the sarcasm drip off the word. “If it were a perfect world I would be spending my time assassinating corrupt assholes and drinking whiskey. But unfortunately for me, I’m not doing either of those things. And I really, really want some whiskey. Here.”

You pull out a small drive, holding it out to him.

“If you wanna call me, specifically, use this. If you wanna talk to the team I’ll set it up. If you just want me to give some guy a heart attack and steal his shit, we can arrange something.” 

“I don’t need the help of a murderer and a thief.”

“Because you’re neither killing people or breaking and entering. Just take the drive you don’t have to use it I don’t care. I was asked to make contact with you. Contact made.”

There’s a moment of tense silence. You know that Hanzo had a weapon aimed at 76’s head but you also knew that this guy’s sniper had all the time in the world to adjust their position and take an aim at you. Maybe he had two. If you got shot again you would have to deal with more than just an angry lover. Now you’ll have angry friends. Wow, that’s something to think about. Very heartwarming. 76 took the drive, slowly stepping back away from you. You shrugged and walked past him, headed towards Hanzo.

“He’s enamored with me. Clearly, I was the best choice for this. No one else would do. I have captured his imagination. We are the best of friends now. Move aside, all old friends.” You remark into your comm, just loud enough that 76 can probably still hear you. “It’s the mark of a new era of high-level friendshi-ha, I couldn’t keep going we were like 5 seconds from a fight. This guy is an ass. Think we got time to eat before pick up?”


	18. Roll to Seduce

“A curse was put upon the cleric, sealing away their charm!”

“This will not keep me from seducing mortals, Mortal.” You smirked.

“You seduced the God of Death when we were on trial for heresy against the God of Death!” Hana argued.

“And now I’m an immortal it worked.” You leaned back in your chair, sticking your tongue out at Hana. She returned the expression. 

“I am a Cleric graced with the Blessing of the God of Death. I want to roll to deflect the curse.” You wait until Reinhardt nods and you roll the dice.

“The Great Wizard’s spell is reflected back at him. He is immediately flustered and awkward. He requests the adventurers take the enchanted map and leave. They follow the map to the feet of the great Bitterwind mountains, home to their noble bard.” Reinhardt recites from his cardboard DM fortress.

“It’s great to be home!” Lucio grins. “We have got to make a stop in the Deep City. The market is excellent for supplies!”

“Are you sure it isn’t just a chance to meet with your betrothed.” Hana teased.

“Finally getting a little love, are you?” Torbjorn boomed, laughing.

“Leave Nemayr alone. We should go into the city for the taverns and gambling halls. Build up our treasure before we lose it all paying troll tolls. And if he happens to disappear while we’re playing bones and reappear when we’re buying provisions then hm.” You purr, winking at Lucio.

“Our adventurers approach the great, glimmering steel doors to the land of the deep. The doorkeeper, covered in an enchanted silver armor of the finest make. He wields a massive battle axe. He looks at the knight and points at him accusingly. ‘Humans are not allowed to enter the deep!’ He bellows.” Reinhardt shuffled some papers.

“Our knight isn’t responsible for what the other humans did! He’s an outcast from his people, for saving me.” Hana argued. You glance at your current inventory sheet.

“ ‘The life of one Orc Paladin is not worth entrance to the Deep!’ The guard argues.” Reinhardt reads.

“ ‘What about this necklace. I was told it’s called the Star of the Depth Sea.’ I dangle a glimmering pendant from my fingers. The chain is silver, with a pendant so dark a blue it’s almost black. At its center is a glimmering spark like white fire. ‘I got it from a dragon I, befriended.’” You offer. 

“ ‘You offer us a great piece of our stolen past, Elf. The elders can decide this. You will go straight to them. Stop nowhere else!’ the guard scurries to open the doors, his eyes not leaving the star pendant once. The Deep Lands are now open to the party, though they may only go straight to the city itself.”

“Thank you for giving up one of your treasures Linan.” Torbjorn said softly. You wave your hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing, I’ve a thousand pretty pendants. I’ll win some more from the deep’s gambling halls before the night is done.” You chimed, smiling as Hanzo slid in the seat next to yours. He held the character sheet you made him. He seemed calm but you knew he was nervous. It had taken weeks to convince him to join the group’s tabletop sessions. You message him a quick update on the story and location. He nods.

“ ‘Congratulations, Sir Richard. You are now the only human welcome in the Deep Lands. Behave yourself with honor, for that privilege can be taken away.’ the Elder Leader said. All of the Deep Lands are now open to the party. It is a land of caves and caverns, some as small as a child and as big as the mountains are tall. It is a vast, dark place, and not all corners are entirely safe.” Reinhardt read. 

“I wait for the party at the end of the bridge. One might see me as human, but my eyes are the colors of flame and they give me away.” Hanzo says slowly.

“I’m not trying to alarm anyone but say I was, intimate, with a dragon and then never spoke to him again and he was waiting for us at the end of the bridge, how well would you take that?” You ask.

“Oh no. Linan no.” Lucio said.

“Linan yes.” You counter.

“I heard that an elf came into the Deep Lands with a certain necklace. And I thought it could not be my Linan. They would never give away something I had given them.” Hanzo started. “And yet here we are, neither of us possessing the star of the depth sea.”

“I consider jumping off the side of the bridge. My immortality would save me but ultimately it would hurt more than it’s worth. It’s better to face the dragon. I smile as sweetly as I can. ‘My apologies dear Syvie. I knew you were in the Deep Lands and couldn’t enter without my human servant.’ “

“Syvie? The Dragon of the Wastes?!” Hana gasped.

“Human Servant?” Torbjorn snorted.

“Oh is that so?” Hanzo questioned.

“Roll for Charisma.” Reinhardt tapped the table. You sighed and rolled, wincing as you failed.

“I think you just traded it so you could go gamble until you were drunk and weighed down with coin.” Hanzo raised his eyebrows at you.

“Oh Syvie. You know me too well. What can I do to apologize?” You pout.

“Hm. I can think of nothing that pleases me enough to make up for this indiscretion. I will just stay at your side until something comes to mind.” Hanzo nodded to Rein.

“And thus, the dragon Syvie of the Wastes has joined our heroes party!”

You leaned on Hanzo, letting him pet your hair while the two of you played. 

“The miner seems to think that the dragon and the elf are cheating at bones. He accuses them and draws all eyes of the tavern to the party. A marksman walks up and asks what the situation is. What do you do?” Reinhardt asked.

“I roll to seduce the marksman.” You grin.

“You can’t do that, you’re still in trouble with Syvie.” Hana frowned.

“I also roll to seduce the marksman.” You tilt your head to see Hanzo’s smile. You burst out giggling.

“Alright, roll. We’ll average out your combined rolls.” Reinhardt watched the die, calculated and then sighed. “ ‘I would be a fool to pass up the chance to spend an evening with a dragon or an elf. Both is the sort of thing dreams are made of. Calm yourself Miner, I’ll pay your debt.’ The marksman hands the miner some coins and sends him on his way. Linan and Syvie will be, missing, for a few hours.” 

You cover your face to keep yourself from laughing too hard. You watch the rest of the party relax, narrowly avoid a fight with some thieves, and meet up in the inn where you’re staying the night. At one point Lucio’s bard Nemayr also disappears, much to Torbjorn’s knight’s delight. He returned as the party was entering the markets.

“Before you stands the great Market of the Deep. It stretches further than your eyes can see, and is filled with buildings and stands offering every good you can imagine. It is here that our adventurers can stock up on supplies for their journey, as well as purchasing a few more rare goods.”

“We need provisions, materials for Linan’s potions, whetstones, Syvie do you need anything?” Lucio asked.

“I am a ranger. Nature provides me what I need.” Hanzo shrugs. 

“Nature provided you with a shitty elf.” Hana countered.

“Nature provided you with that same elf. It is a mysterious force.” Hanzo tried not to smile. He was failing.

“Oh, you say that now. But what will you say when you are bleeding to death? Heal us Linan. Save us Linan. We are so sorry we said you were a shitty elf, Linan. Just you wait Tor’Nall.” You wiggled a finger at Hana. 

“Put healing potions on the list.” She smiled.

“I will not speak to the orc any longer.” 

The game lasts until the table looks drowsy. Reinhardt ends the session with the party getting detoured at the entrance to one of the Deep Lands caves. You gather up your materials and kiss Hanzo’s forehead. “Thank you for joining us.”

He smiles and pulls you onto his lap. “I like seeing you happy.”

“Awwwwwwww” Hana and Lucio coo. You just grin and kiss Hanzo, lingering with your lips on his.

“Oh! Mr. McCree! You’ve made it!” Reinhardt greets enthusiastically. You feel Hanzo tense and glance at the door. 

Jesse McCree is standing there, leaning against the frame. He is very much alive. And looking right at you.

“Hey.”


	19. Well. That's Awkward.

There’s a lot of things going through your head, and most of them are ‘fuck me and fuck this’ in some creative variations.

“Hey McCree! I thought you were dead. Good to see you’re not.” You call out with a wave.

“Dead? Adds, you probably need to watch the news.” Lucio said gently. 

“I used to watch the news, and by watch the news I mean I searched my target's name to make sure there wasn’t a ‘mysterious person seen leaving the apartment shortly after the perceived time of death’.” You remarked in your best newscaster voice. “Other than that I had a very busy schedule of being blackout drunk.”

At this point you didn’t even think Reyes was dead. Someone was going to have to show you physical proof of the man’s body decomposing before your eyes before you believed it. No one was dead. Everyone was just hanging around not getting into contact with anybody else. Which admittedly meant that it was partially your fault. Which it was. You were too busy going on a downward spiral to double check your information. The thought makes you really nostalgic. You would absolutely love to down a bottle of bourbon by yourself right now. Just, right in the middle of everyone. Shit’s gettin’ weird time to get drunk goodbye everyone.

You look at Hanzo. “I have, thanks to creative management, made major changes to that schedule; my new schedule is dramatically throwing myself across the conference table at inopportune times. I’m considering doing that to Torbjorn’s workstation but then he’ll just work on my feet. That’s not inopportune it’s just convenient.” 

“I’ve got plans drawn up!” Torbjorn interjected. 

“Ziegler, my friend. Oh, have you been Zieger’d yet McCree? If not you should, probably get down there she will find you.” You warned, as dead serious as you could be when you were screaming inside of your head. Maintaining your calm when you’re staring at your not-dead ex-lover while sitting on the lap of your current lover was not fucking fun. It was awkward. You didn’t like it. But you also didn’t want to leave the relative safety of Hanzo’s arms. “Wait what the fuck have you been doing to be on the news.”

“Nothin, just getting blamed for stuff I didn’t do is all.” McCree shrugged, casually moving closer until he took a seat in on one of the couches. Close enough so you weren’t shouting at each other across the room. Far enough that it wasn’t weirder than it already was. 

“Want me to stab ‘em?”

“Adder.”

“It was a joke! I do those sometimes!”

“Adder?” McCree’s staring at you again. You resume screaming internally. 

“Just a little something that happened don’t worry about it.” You say, a bit too quickly.

“Same thing that happened to your hands?” McCree’s eyes narrowed. 

“Yep!” You throw finger guns towards and chuckle. “It is, nothing big or worth talking about at all. The only interesting thing about my hands is I can make them glow orange. Look at that. Fantastic. One time I made them red and that was as uncomfortable as you would think it’d be. Weirded out both me and the lady I was about to kill. Though I guess she was already pretty uncomfortable. Anyway. Probably not the best thing to talk about either. Anyway, call me Adder, I got disco hands.”

You wanted to leave so badly. 

Hanzo gently scooped you off his lap, dropping you into the chair next to him so he could finish gathering up the game supplies. So the two of you could leave. You were ready to break into the ceiling vents and make your getaway in style.

“Hanzo right? Genji’s brother? He told me he brought you in on the way over.” You met McCree’s eyes. He didn’t think Hanzo belonged. Which you could understand. No one was initially pretty happy with Hanzo. Even those who weren’t Blackwatch weren’t happy with what he’d done to Genji. But Genji wanted him there, and that was the final word. 

Or maybe that’s not what McCree was thinking at all. You couldn’t read him worth a damn.

“Yes.” Hanzo tapped your shoulder with your dice bag. You took it with a smile. “I’m glad my brother has such dependable allies.”

“He’s talking about Ziegler and Zenyatta,” You stage whisper with your hand to your face. You stand up and push your chair in. “I think you and I fall under the ‘bad influences but would probably kill someone for him so they’re ok’ category.”

“That sounds dependable.” McCree leaned back in his chair, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Right?” 

“Now I know who to go to if I want someone dead.” He mumbled. 

“Yep! You better. Anyway it's late as heck. G’night Team,” You snorted, snagging Hanzo’s arm and leaving towards the dorms. You waited until you were safely in your room before issuing a strange wheezing scream and collapsing onto the bed. Hanzo put your things away before laying down next to you, spreading his arms.

“I’m gonna kick Genji’s fucking ass.” You growled, rolling over onto Hanzo. Curling into his warmth. You were fine. You were safe. Everything was okay. He was holding you close and you were fine.

The last time you saw Jesse...McCree. You were, more optimistic. Less bitter. Less violent, for sure. Killing was a last resort and all you wanted was to help your team and make the world a better place. Now all you wanted to do was kill your foes quick so you could resume your favorite hobbies of not-drinking-anymore and reading in your boyfriend’s lap. Making the world a better place was an afterthought, one that you aren’t even sure you believe in. But that’s fine, you don’t need to be a hero, you just need to keep the heroes alive.

“That was fucking awful Hanzo. I mean. Sure, it went well, no uncomfortable comments. Kinda. I just. That was Jesse, you know? And I thought he was dead. Which I guess is my own fucking fault because I never bothered to look it up because I was so certain that everyone was gone. Because I. Because I guess…”

“Because if they were alive they would have come for you,” Hanzo whispered.

“... yeah. I think so. I don’t, I’m not angry about it I was in the middle of fucking nowhere in an underground lab I don’t even know how Talon found it in the end. I just. It killed the hope. They were gone. I was gone. Makes my fucking teeth hurt thinking about it.” You hide your face in his shoulder. 

“Do you still love him?”

“I have spent years trying to ignore that question Hanzo but...I think so? I guess? In a way, I’ll always love him. Cause I loved him when I was different. But that hurts too. And I’m really tired of hurting.” You look at him. “I love you. Right now. The me that I am. I love being with you and I want you. Don’t worry about the past because really, I don’t like looking there”

You smile and kiss his jaw. “I love the way you do silly shit just because I’m into it. I love your dedication. I love your passion. I love watching you meditate. Talk about astral journeys your face goes places.”

Hanzo chuckled, tilting towards you to catch your lips. “I love your face journeys too.”

“That’s why I don’t meditate could you imagine. What my face would do when I’m not watching it. It would leave me Hanzo. Fly off into the sunset. Make a new life for itself amongst the puffins. Isn’t there some island somewhere full of puffins? Just ungodly amounts of puffins? That’s where my face would go. It would become the leader of the puffins. Hanzo I’m serious.” You lasted half a second after the word ‘serious’ before you laughed.

“I love that too.” He kissed you, a smile on his lips, and you were thrilled. You loved that smile. 

“Speaking of face journeys,” You wiggled your eyebrows. "Wanna go on one?"

“Is that your idea of seduction?” Hanzo asked, brushing his hand down your spine.

“Is it working?” You kiss him, grinning when you had to stop to let him pull off your shirt. “That’s a yes.”


	20. Genji and his Fucking Flips

It was easy to improve your stealth capabilities when you spend most of your time avoiding someone in a base that only has 4 working areas. You wouldn’t directly admit to having gotten into the vent system. But if you were in there, you found it cramped. And effective. Mostly cramped.

You weren’t even sure why you were avoiding McCree to begin with. The anxiety would pass. Hopefully. 

You finally got Genji into the training area after weeks of begging. Hopefully, a good fight would smooth you out. So far it was working. The two of you sparred while Hanzo watched nearby, practicing with his bow. And yes. The motherfucker was flipping you. You thought you were over this. You thought it was done. You thought you could stay on your feet for five fucking seconds without pancake jones coming over here and knocking you over like you were one of those demonic fucking bowling ball pin shaped clown things. Those little fuckers that rocked everywhere? You could not, for the life of you, understand what those things were. You saw one in a target’s house and just never forgot it. Why was it there. Why did he own one. Who even makes those.

Alright it wasn’t that bad, he’d flipped you twice. Most of the time your feet were able to keep adhered to the ground. It was only when you had tried to go for a sweep that he’d managed to resume his old habits. Like right now. Man, you hated being flipped.

“Am I interrupting?”

You look up to see McCree joining walking into the area.

“Oh hey. Not really. Genji’s just kicking my fucking ass. As per the usual. Don’t worry. World’s not ending yet. I thought it was just coincidence that the ancient prophecies specifically mention Genji kicking my ass but no it’s not the day I kick Genji’s ass is the day the great serpent will devour this world and the lightning god will come down to fight a dog.” You rolled back to your feet, settling back into a fighting stance.

“You mind if I practice then?” McCree looks towards the range.

“Neither of us needs the range; Hey Hanzo, can McCree use a lane or are you scattering.” You dodge to the side, warily eyeing Genji’s fist. It did not feel good to get punched by him. Hanzo apparently motioned a yes, because McCree left you and Genji to your business. Which was you, getting beat up. Not as bad as it once would’ve happened. But still. Goddamnit Genji.

You manage a few hits on him that you’re pretty proud of. Bruise the shit out of your hands. But you’re standing your own. You watch McCree and Hanzo out of the corner of your eye. Just in case. Never know. Apparently, you were distracted enough for Genji to snag you into a hold.

“It’s okay, they’re complimenting each other’s aim,” Genji says as you twist out of his grip, dodging away.

“That’s, good? Shame on you for eavesdropping.” You feint to the left, trying to slip your arm around Genji’s right leg. Genji rolled backward.

“But you want to know. Besides. It’s good for them to get along.” Genji lands a kick on your hip, you grab his leg and wrench him down. It’s not a flip. But it’s still sweet victory.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to be friends again.” You step back, watching him. 

Genji punched towards your abdomen. You moved to dodge but he managed to graze your side. You nearly fell backward trying to get out of range. Genji’s so much faster than you. It forces you to work on the defense, rather than the offense. You’re not used to standing back so much and waiting. Genji can tell and he takes advantage, easily pushing you back until he’s knocked you out of the ring. You circle back in, charging at him and drawing his punch. You grab his arm and pull, knocking him off balance. He grabs your legs and flips you again. You curse loudly and push yourself to your feet.

“Damn. I give. Genji why.” You rub your legs, shaking your head. 

“You’re not as easy to topple anymore.” Genji complimented. “You used to be much less sure on your feet.”

You gave him a weary thumbs up. “Thanks. I think. I might literally have to go see Ziegler you punch, so damn hard.”

Genji chuckled, giving you a hand up. “You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you say that. Watch now my injuries are even worse than I thought they were. Ziegler’s going to walk down the hall and smell bruises. Like a shark in the water. She already knows about them Genji. She knows. Either I go to her or she’ll be waiting under my bed in the middle of the night with her staff and one of those trapping nets you see in old cartoons. I’m gonna get hog tied and dragged to med bay screaming.” You whine, uncapping your water.

“Hogtied with a net?”

“Listen I don’t know how she does it either but you don’t see me asking. She can keep her secrets.” You dramatically shudder. Your eyes wander towards the shooting range, watching McCree and Hanzo shooting at their targets. They were probably in tatters by now. 

“I’m sorry I did not give you any warning about McCree.” Genji’s voice was soft. You were sort of pissed at him about it but oh well. Things happened. Now things… weren’t? Happening? It was less awkward and no one was dead so. Eh. 

You glanced over at Genji and shrugged. “That’s okay I was busy pretending to be an elf.”

“I heard Hanzo played?” Genji asked.

“Yes and it was fucking awesome. I love when he does embarrassing shit with me. Somehow it makes it not embarrassing. For me. It’s probably still embarrassing for him. Which is also, pretty great. I mean. He’s doing it anyway. That’s cute.” You smile, focusing your eyes on Hanzo, admiring him. “I’m glad things are better between you. I really love him.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell by your staring. And your frequent talking about him. And your leaning on him all the time-”

You laughed, apparently loud enough that the two at the range heard you. “Okay, Okay I get it. I am sorrrrry. Would you like to talk about Ziegler? I’m listening. Tell me all.”

“No, that’s alright.” Genji shook his head. You grinned and poked at him.

“C’mmooon. Genjii. Spill the details Genjiiii.”

“What are you two laughing about over here.” McCree walked up, Hanzo following shortly behind him. You grinned at them both.

“Genji won’t tell me about his relationship with Aannngeelllaaaa,” You say in a singsong voice, clasping your hands together and swinging.

“Oh, so you and Mercy finally got together. Good for you.” McCree smiled. Apparently he wasn’t in the mood for some good old-fashioned Genji teasing. Even Hanzo was shaking his head. Where was Zenyatta when you needed him. Only he truly understood.

“Oh come on. I just wanna know. The secrets. The mystery. The Drama. Without it I shall perish. Even now I grow weary. Shadows are taking my vision. The light is fading. Farewell, cruel world in which I don’t know any details about my best friend’s personal life. If I were to live past this day I would gladly give Zenyatta a ‘new best friend’ token. Maybe a shirt. Some socks. I don’t know. Whatever he feels like. But alas. Alas. Without the drama. I die.” You gasp with as much emotion as you can without laughing, give a spin and fall backward with your hand to your forehead. Hanzo catches you with a soft sigh.

“It was only a matter of time. Adder’s need for drama was growing by the day. This is for the good of us all.” Hanzo quickly put on a somber tone. You manage, for just a few seconds, to hold your breath and preserve the scene. Then you immediately broke down into giggles. 

“Don’t worry Hanzo, your drama can preserve me for multiple lifetimes.” You tease. He plays along, frowning until you kiss him. You can hear Genji laughing and out of the corner of your eye, you see McCree shaking his head and smiling. 

You decide you don’t need to hide in any more vents.


	21. Genji and you have opposing feelings on rooftops

“That doesn’t make sense.” Genji remarked from across the table. “Orange is not scary.”

“It is, it’s terrifying. I’m a nightmare.” You retort, crossing your arms.

“Black is better for stealth.”

“Listen, Genji, Genji. I need, I know our systems are different but let me, let me try to walk you through a program activation.”

“Okay.”

“So, go into system core, right? And then, go into vocal settings, are you with me?”

“Mmhmm”

“And then you, you go down, to volume. Right there. And you open it up.”

“Mmhmm”

“And then you choose the “Shut the fuck up” protocol and just, activate that.” You say, bringing interlaced fingers beneath your chin.

“Is that anything like the ‘Shut up the Fuck’ protocol?”

“No, no that’s closer to the ‘Up the Shut Fuck’ protocol, they’re basically the same thing.”

“Why are they two different protocols then?” Genji leaned forward.

“Scientists like making duplicate programs to avoid starting new projects.”

“Ah I see. And the Shut up Your Fuck protocol?” Genji makes you laugh.

“That’s basically just fucking Hanzo. Or, whoever your fuck is. It’s highly situational. Also, it never works. It was quite literally the opposite of shutting your fuck up. If there wasn’t so much soundproofing-”

“We’re almost there!” Tracer called out. You and Genji chuckled from your corner. The two of you were on your first mission without Hanzo. A sniper would only cause panic, he reasoned. The situation, a collection of hostages trapped inside of a museum, didn’t need more panic. Police couldn’t get in, but you could. He wanted you to incapacitate as many of the kidnappers as possible. It made both you and Hanzo uncomfortable. But the two of you made an effective combination. If Genji was down to let you kill people you would be unstoppable. But alas, he is not. And alas, you should probably let that go. But if you’re not an assassin, that you wouldn’t be much of anything, and you’re not going to think about that right now. That’s gonna just get, stamped right down. Forget that you thought about it. Thought about what? Nothing.

You flicked your visor into place, black despite your earlier joking, and the two of you silently darted through the side streets. The hostages were being held in a museum, away from any of the thin, tall windows. It was only two stories high, surrounded by thick trees and the growth of industry. The rusted iron bars on the window told you enough about how well the museum was doing. The police surrounded the front and back of the building, eyes glued to the windows, hoping one of the armed suspects would cross in front of the aged glass. You and Genji opted for breaking into one of the museum’s neighboring buildings. 

You settle into the mission like an old dance. You know the steps. Know your partner. Know how to break open one of the aging office windows and wait for Genji to throw you forward so you could land on the museum roof. You could have dropped down to the thin cement walkway that ringed the building but it would raise an alarm if you were seen in your dark clothing climbing up the beige brick. You feel peace seep into you. Zenyatta would be proud.

There’s one man on the roof, hiding out of sight of snipers but not the two of you. You reach him first, dropping him with a single sting.

“ _We’ve got 15 minutes._ ” Your system sends the message to Genji, who nods and leads the way in. It was a big building. You used your infrared to point out the suspects walking around in the hallways. You stick together as long as you can. The two of you alternate your attacks, with one of you always lingering out of sight. Just in case someone actually sees an attack happen. There was no need to show all of your hand.

Most of the hostages were kids. Winston hadn’t mentioned that. Perhaps he didn’t know. There could have been a lot of field trips that he didn’t know about. That the news didn’t release for whatever reason. There was a lot of tears, a lot of muffled crying. Adults had managed to shuffle themselves as much as they could between the suspects and the children. You could see one who paid the price for trying. This was not going to go as clean as Winston had hoped.

You gave another slow glance around the room, switching between your various visual modes. Three dead in total. Two of them were near the doors that lead to the entrance hall, the last closer to the side corridor where you were lurking. The hostages were grouped into the center of the room, clustered into a single mass. Too far to sneak them out.

There were only 8 suspects in the room. Most of their group had fallen as you and Genji had fought your way in. The five were suspicious, repeatedly checking their radios and walking in stiff rotations. They weren’t looking at the hostages. If it were up to you, this would be a prime time to just kill the suspects. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it.

“ _Genji, the lights._ ” You messaged. You could hear him step away, searching for a way to turn off at least the overhead lights. They flickered, went out, and you moved. Your eyes snapped to night vision, painting the world in illuminated black and white. The suspects were scrambling. You were one the closest one, stinging him in the neck and dropping him. The next suspect ran towards you. You dropped, catching him in the ankle. The suspects made a mistake in choosing the windowless room to hold their hostages. The window light would have been useful for them.

One of them lifted his rifle to fire into the darkness. Genji appeared at your side, reflecting the bullets up into the ceiling. The green flash of his movements drew all the attention to him. You took advantage, staying low and catching another target in the face. The two of you moved in sync. He trained you, you were both Blackwatch, you both knew how the other moved. So when one dodged the other was there to strike. 

The kids had begun to cry in loud, screaming in earnest. Poor things. At least none of them were dead. Dead adults you could handle. Dead kids were firmly in the ‘this would fuck me up more than I’m capable of being fucked up’ column. The screaming added to the confusion and made it easier to take down the remaining suspects. Genji moved to your left, punching them hard in the face while you slid up to the right. You and Genji hit the last mark together, him high, you low. 

You switched your eyes to infrared, searching the building for any sign of moving warmth. Nothing. You were good. 4 minutes to go.

Genji tapped your arm, drawing you back to the roof before you remembered to switch back to night vision. You pulled up one of the numbers you used to use for a client, dialing the police waiting outside. You told them the suspects were incapacitated and hung up, deleting the number.

As you did, another message came in. 

“ _Hello. That drive of yours was fairly difficult to get into._ ”

“ _You need something 76?_ ” You bit back a sigh as Genji tossed you towards the window, catching the ledge in your hands and pulling yourself up.

“ _I’m his associate. You may call me Shrike._ ”

“ _Hi. Did you need something, Shrike? I’m sort of trying to avoid jumping across rooftops._ ” Genji’s already helping you across a large gap, much to your displeasure. You hate rooftop business. Sure if you landed on your feet you would be fine but what if you didn't land on your feet. If you're going to die then you're going to die in the middle of a fight not slipping off a roof because your friend wanted you to go skipping through the sky with him.

__

__

“ _No. Just letting you know I’ll be in touch._ ”

“ _Did you just message me to complain about the encryption on my drive._ ” You drop to the ground, thrilled to be safe from the high flying adventures you could still see Genji having. At least one of you liked it. The messages stop, so you assume you’re correct. Good news. Winston will be thrilled.

“Hey Genji. 76 actually used my drive. My one failed mission wasn’t a failure.” You announced over comm.

“Didn’t you fail to kill Hanzo?”

“... Listen.”


	22. Meditations

It seems not even Zenyatta can teach you how to meditate. You’re fidgeting. Reading a book. The only thing you can do is keep quiet and that’s not helping you figure this whole thing out. It’s not your fault. You’re just nervous.

Winston had sent McCree and Hanzo out on a mission while you and Genji were gone. They hadn’t gotten back and while Reinhardt had gone with them you still didn’t feel entirely comfortable. It was like waiting for a ball to drop. Again. Your brain was already going into overdrive, coming up with the various coping methods you’d use if something happened. Most of the coping methods were just various positions to lie in while you put a sports cap onto a bottle of tequila. Admittedly not the best strategy. You were now okay enough to admit you had maybe been living your life in a drunk, bitter haze. But not okay enough that going back to the haze wasn’t still a definite option.

You screech as quietly as you can, jumping to your feet and pacing the room. You cannot sit still one second further. How are you supposed to relax right now? Why hasn’t Winston sent you on another mission? You are this close, this gosh dang close, to looking up your old contacts just to have something to do.

“What do you think would help with your troubles?” Zenyatta asked, pulling your attention to him.

“Whiskey.”

Zenyatta just stared at you. Not judgmentally, just patient. Waiting for a better answer.

“...um… I uh, really don’t know. Generally, that’s as far as I’ve gotten.” You admit.

“Come, let us try another method.” Zenyatta floated up, guiding you out of the meditation room and down towards the training grounds. You were generally in one of three places. On a mission. In the common room. Or here. Locked out of new habits pushed you back into old ones. Training was still the best way to pass your time.

“How do you feel here?” Zenyatta asked. You looked at him, confusion intermixing with comfort.

“Better? Just ready to work. You can’t really, think about stuff when you’re training.” You can, but it’s not a good idea. Going off on one of your mental tangents in the middle of a training routine was a great way to get shot in the stomach with a stun bullet. And that never felt great.

“Then this is how you meditate.” He sounded pleased. 

“What?”

“The point is to clear your mind. For some, for you, this is how it is done. Come, shall we spar?” Zenyatta floated into the ring, motioning for you to join him. You really would like to not get smacked in the face with a heavy metal ball. Or 8. But also, you really, really wanted to calm down. You slowly stepped into the ring, slipping into a familiar stance. You had no idea how to fight Zenyatta. This was going to be interesting.

You spent hours just trying to avoid getting softly tapped by Zenyatta’s orbs. At least someone had the decency of not punching you full force with his fucking prosthetic, unlike some people who you’ve known forever and have always just fucking gone for it. You had so many bruises dangit. Although it was sort of annoying when you took a water break and he just kept gently tapping you with the fucking orbs. You found it difficult to approach him head on, particularly the near-death experience of dropping to narrowly avoid his charges. You did not want, to get hit with that, in any circumstance. You’re okay. It’s okay. Everything is fine.

It does feel fine. You’re calm, your mind isn’t blank but it isn’t racing, and you aren’t in pain because your friend kicked your ass. You weren’t really sure if either of you won, but you felt pretty good.

“Zenyatta have I ever told you that I adore you?” You grinned.

“Yes, but mostly when we play our jokes with Genji.” He replies. 

“Those are the best times.” You put a hand over your heart and nod. Then you shrug and throw your arms around Zenyatta. “Thank you, Zen. I was just, wound up. Got a little worried about Hanzo and McCree, you know?”

“What were you worryin’ for?” You released Zenyatta, thrilled to see your lover and friend both walking into the training area. They looked exhausted, a little dirty, but otherwise they were perfectly fine. Probably.

"Told you this would be the spot." McCree smiled over at Hanzo, who was visibly doing everything in his power to ignore the cowboy.

You ran for Hanzo, nearly bowling him over. He grips you in his arms and kisses you like he’d been gone for years. You grin, eagerly melting into his love and warmth. Even with the sparring, you were still so relieved. Not dead. Not injured. There, present, and alive. You move away only to pepper his face with little kisses. “You’re back!”

“If I had known you would greet me like this, I would have agreed to go on missions without you sooner,” Hanzo smirked. You made a face at him, kissing him again. 

“Asshole.” You released Hanzo, bouncing to wrap McCree in a loose hug. “Glad you’re not dead too.”

McCree is tense at first. It isn’t until his arms are around you that he relaxes. He took a deep breath before he stepped back, wearing a weary smile. “Of course. You aint getting rid of me that easy.”

“Good, now, neither of you look like you’ve been Ziegler’d. C’mon, to the medbay with you. Zenyatta help me. Pelt them with gentle spheres of direction. I’ll just shove.” You grinned. 

“Aw c’mon we’re fine.” McCree slowly took a step back. But it was too late. You were already one of her loyal subjects. Your dedication was as strong as your anxiety levels. She would feast tonight upon the sacrifices you brought her. Then you would be able to face less of her wrath when you yourself dodged your monthly exams. It was a worthy trade to the great one.

“I could attend to any injuries you have.” Zenyatta offered, the helpful traitor. Of course they both agreed. Someday you would catch them. You would drag them to the almighty ruler of the medbay. Like a gremlin. Maybe this was for the better. You could get together a costume for the next time. Maybe some face paint. Pointy ears. You could synthesize something unsettling for a voice. Get some fog machines involved. Nothing too involved. You were, after all, an extremely subtle and calm individual. You would never go overboard just because you could.

You hovered while Zenyatta attended to their bruises, not really talking. You sat there, quietly, eyes closed and ears listening to their conversation. It was mostly Zenyatta talking. Eventually you fell asleep, only waking up because you toppled off the cabinet you’d been sitting on. Hanzo helped you up, giving you this small amused smile. He seemed so peaceful you almost fell asleep again.

“Perhaps it’s time for rest.” 

“Hm? Yeah. Carry meeee.” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, fully intending it to be a joke. But Hanzo swept you up anyway, carrying you out of the training area. You tried to wiggle out of his grip but he smiled and kissed your forehead.

“You said, carry you.” He thought this was funny. Rude.

“I was joking.”

“Would you like me to put you down?”

“... No.” You wrap your arms behind his neck, sighing in contentment. 

Hanzo carried you into your room, dropping you on the bed like a sack of potatoes. Which made you laugh. You pushed yourself back up and pulled clothes out of your dresser. You needed a shower. “How’d the mission go?”

“As well as can be expected. McCree is a frustrating man.” You snort at the mild annoyance in Hanzo’s voice. 

“An understatement. Imagine him teaching you to shoot. Like, hours of shooting Hanzo. My hands hurt just thinking about it. Though I’m a decent shot so I guess he’s an effective teacher. It’s a high price to pay for this level of skill.” You still hadn’t gotten around to picking up a pistol. You didn’t really have any intention to. You should, just in case. You just weren’t going to. 

“He asked me what happened to you and I struck him.” Hanzo stepped to your side, picking out his own clothes. You watched him quietly for a few seconds, trying to decide how you felt about the situation.

“I mean. On one hand that shouldn’t be how you deal with stuff but on the other hand, he shouldn’t have asked you. I also don’t want him to ask me though. What do you feel about getting a cardboard cutout of me with like. A recorder taped to it. The recorder just says ‘don’t worry about it’ on a loop.” You grin, despite the serious expression on Hanzo’s face. 

“If he bothers you about it…” His voice was low and rough. Anger simmered in his eyes. You smiled reassuringly, snatching the clothes out of his hands.

“Don’t worry, no one can dodge a conversation like I can. I’ve been dodging anything more intense than bagel fillings with McCree since he got here. If it looks like I’m about to take a dive into deep topic territory I’ll cartwheel out. Literally. Physical cartwheels. It’ll be great.” You carry the pile of clothing towards the bathroom.

“You took my clothes,” Hanzo commented.

“I know.” You grinned and slid through the bathroom doorway, turning on the water as you heard Hanzo’s footsteps behind you. "My evil plan succeeds!"


	23. Pins and Needles

_“How fast can you get to Italy.”_

You’re a little surprised when 76 messages you out of the blue. Or maybe it was is Shrike. The morning had been pretty peaceful. You were lazing around in the common room, reading a book while McCree sat in the corner cleaning his pistol. Another good reason not to use guns. You have to take them apart to clean them and that’s a hassle. It’s the same reason why you don’t buy legos or those little plastic model kits. Putting things together is not your skill set.

You turn the page in your book before messaging back. _“Pilot’s here, so about an hour. Why?”_

_“It’s none of your business.”_

_“...Then I guess you don’t want me to show up.”_ You go back to your book.

 _“Found a company using stolen old Overwatch tech in some of their new weapons models. Come to these coordinates. Bring your sniper.”_ Damn. Hanzo was off with Genji on a mission. Although, you did technically have someone who could shoot at a distance.

“Hey McCree, 76 wants me to go to Italy and I’m bored. You in?” You asked, flicking your book away.

“I’m with ya. I don’t trust him though. Sure this aint a trap of some kind?” McCree began to put his cleaning tools away.

“Nope.” You stand up and stretch. “Just watch your head for that sniper. He may have a team of his own too, we’re just not sure. Winston thought he ran solo.”

_“My sniper’s unavailable but, you know, overwatch and all. I’ll bring a sharpshooter. I’ve got plenty to choose from. Two. I have two choices. And one of them is in the Amazon watchpoint collecting ecological data.”_

_“Stop talking and get over here.”_

“Oh, he’s a treasure. It’s gonna be greeaaat. I’m gonna go tell Winston what’s up, meet you at the plane.” You jog out to Winston’s office. It takes all of your self-control to not immediately start messing with his whiteboards. Why are they so spinnable. So alluring. Must spin. No, no you will be strong.

“Winston! Tracer!” Don’t spin the board. Don’t spin the board.

“Yea?” Tracer just teleports in front of you. All bright and cheery and lovable. If you’re going to get jump scared in real life there was no one better. Winston came down the stairs. He held a tablet in one hand; working as always. You could relate.

“Got a message from Soldier 76. He wants me to meet him in Italy. McCree agreed to go with me, if Tracer can drop us off?” 

Winston sighed, slowly shaking his head. The gorilla did not like 76. Didn’t really like the idea of any of his agents interacting with the gunman. “Yes, If that’s alright with you Lena. Be careful Adder. Don’t do anything dangerous or illegal. Don’t listen to him either. Don’t let him get behind you or between you and McCree.”

“Should I also not kiss him on the first date?” You couldn’t help yourself. You felt bad. “Sorry, I know, he’s not the best news in the world. I’ll be ready to sting at the first sign of anything fishy. I promise.”

You offer him your hand, surprised when he pulled you in for a quick hug before sending you on your way. You had been so busy thinking of him as your Leader that you didn’t realize he considered leader and friend to be the same things. But of course, he would. Winston was the driving force of the whole ‘Let’s be heroes for the sake of being heroes’ situation. None of you would be there otherwise. Especially not you.

The coordinates 76 gave you are for a city small enough to be considered a town. You aren’t sure what he’s dealing with to need backup in a place like this. Which means it’s probably a trap. Not that you’re sure what he thinks he’d gain by killing you. Overwatch would still function fine. Unless he intended to take out you and Hanzo. In which case, rude.

“Alright, so, basically working with me isn’t too far off from working with Genji? I also get up close and sting. I just have no ranged weap-don’t look at me like that do I look like I’m carrying a gun? Anyway, no ranged capabilities. I get up close and touch ‘em.” You wiggle your hands at McCree. “Keep that between us, consider me a scout of some kind. Last time we talked 76 got close enough for me to hit him. If he means to threaten us I want him up close again.”

“So what happens when you touch ‘em?” McCree loaded his pistol, keeping his eyes focused on the gun.

“Tiny little needles inject nanites into their bodies. Default action is paralysis, but I can induce more fatal conditions. That’s how I kill people. Killed. Past tense. No longer, no longer really doin’ that. Cause Winston said not to. And, pretty much everyone else in Overwatch.” You shrug, leading the way out of the plane. 

“What if you can’t get up close to him?” McCree murmured so quietly he might as well have just whispered at you.

“Shoot him.” You shrug. 

76 and his sniper were waiting for you at the coordinates, looking alert but not necessarily ready to shoot you. 

“You brought him?” 76 sneered. You’ve never heard someone put that much contempt into three words before in your life. 

“I don’t know how to put this, I’m Ex-Blackwatch too. Look at me. Look me in the ey- you know what don’t do that it won’t help. Anyway. I don’t know, what you expected, but if you want your pick of the agents, that sucks. Our leader doesn’t even get his pick of the agents.” You shrug. “I offered to help you out on my own. McCree is here on the good graces of our leader. Be nice.”

“Just don’t slow me down.” 76 snapped, motioning to be followed. You walk alongside his sniper, with McCree bringing up the rear. They’re short, and while they don’t have any exposed skin that you can see they’re still close enough for it to be, a bad idea.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just upset that we needed the extra hands.” A gentle voice. Somewhat vaguely familiar. 

“Eh doesn’t bother me. I’m remarkably unlikeable. I’ve managed to trick a handful of people into tolerating my existence but ultimately, my like to not like ratio is still firmly in the red.” You place a hand over your heart and sigh.

“How’d you meet up with this 76?” McCree cut in. He was staring past both of you, keeping an eye on the gruff man guiding you through the streets.

“We were old acquaintances is all.” Shrike replies. The group approaches a plain, square warehouse with chipping paint surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence. You could see security cameras attached to the gate and the building itself.

“You.” 76 pointed at you. “Go to the west side, quickest way to the security room, enter and disable the outside security. You, gunman, with me.”

“I aint letting Adder go off alone.” McCree pointedly rested his hand on his pistol. Shrike patted his arm and motioned to the rooftops.

“I will be with them.” They offered.

“I said I aint-” You held a hand up to stop McCree.

“It’s alright, stay on comm.” You flicked your visor into place, ignoring McCree’s surprise. You darted back, circling around to avoid being caught on camera. There were guards standing at a small side door. There weren’t any other patrolling around. You signaled for Shrike to wait and vaulted over at the least guarded section, collecting yourself and walking straight towards the door. The two guards immediately pointed pistols at you, shouting for you to back up. You rolled your eyes under your visor.

“Excelsior 4.2, here with the delivery of data package as requested. Requesting verification of identity from stationed guards.” They got a look of confusion as they took in your hair, organic clashing with the inorganic visor. You lunged, jabbing your hand into one throat and slamming the other one's head against the wall. You managed to subtly brush them both with a nanite sting. They dropped, allowing you to pull a keycard from one of their uniforms. You stopped, just for a moment, to make sure the paralytic effect hadn’t closed their throats. It happened sometimes. They should be fine but you were on a timer now. Shriek had already followed after you, closing the door behind you.

You silence your footsteps, overlaying infrared to check for anyone approaching you. It took a few doors for you to find the small unlabeled security room. Thermal vision indicates two individuals. You slide the keycard in, chameleon-ing into a quick version of one of the guards you dropped. Enough to distract them as you close in to the one sitting, curling your arm around his neck. Shrike dropped the other with a shot. Asleep, not dead. Interesting. Shrike took over the computers, knowing what files needed to be taken down.

“McCree, you and 76 are good to go i-” You hear something explode. “Nevermind. I’m working my way towards the explosions.”

“Be careful, these guys got some serious gear.” McCree warns over the sound of gunshots. What was the point of disabling any security if 76 was just going to go around blowing shit up. You chameleon’d into one of the guards, snagging his pistol.

“Remember that I look like this and don’t shoot me.” You warned Shrike. You lead the way again, still waiting to get close enough to paralyze people rather than actually use the gun. Behind you Shrike fired off their darts. The amount of people who were going to wake up confused in this building was going to be astounding. The number of people who are going to wake up super fired is also astounding. 

You entered a large warehouse space, watching 76 and McCree firing at a surprisingly large group of guards from behind cover. Maybe the amount of people waking up in this building wouldn’t be so astounding after all. 

At your side Shrike lifted their rifle, loading a strange glowing dart into her rifle and aiming at 76. Warning bells went off in your head as Shrike fired. 76’s veins glowed momentarily surrounding the impact site, and he moved faster, more agile. You bit back your personal feelings about needles full of what was clearly some sort of nanite model. You weren’t aware of your slight shake until Shrike asked again if you were alright, reaching out to touch your shoulder. You flinched away, nearly running forward to strike down the few remaining after 76’s enhanced rampage.

McCree materialized at your side at some point, a physical barrier between you and Shrike. You’re not sure which one of you keeps this formation but you’re grateful for it. 76 doesn’t seem to care. He charges straight for a large server room and begins to work with Shrike on the servers. You linger near the door, watching with your infrared, both for more guards and also their locations. Your tense. Fighting not to fidget. Grateful that your visor covers your face and no one can see you gnawing on your lips. You felt too aware of everything. Every moment, every sound, every trace of hot and cold. The world was so big and busy and damn if you didn’t want this to be over. Winston didn’t even care about recruiting this guy.

“Let’s go.” 76 pushed through the door, a few shots firing as one of the remaining guards found your group. You notice that Shrike has slung their rifle over their shoulder, using the small sleep pistol they’d been using earlier. You try to fall to the back but McCree motions for you to stay in front of him. 

“Four to the east, approaching. One approaching to the west, two moving away to the west. Three to the south.” You report, alerting your group when someone was coming close. Getting out was faster than getting in. You’re relieved and can’t wait to inform Winston that you never want to work with them again. He would be thrilled. Or he would be thrilled then immediately disappointed at having to assign someone else to the case. Depends on how badly he wanted you to track 76’s movements.

“We’re done.” 76 stops a few miles away, staring you down. Or, presumably staring you down. When three out of four people in a situation are masked it’s not clear where anyone’s eyes are.

“He means thank you.” Shrike offered. At least they were polite. Polite and uncomfortable. You gave a little wave.

“Our pleasure.” You took the path out that put a building between you and them as quickly as possible. It took you a few blocks to realize that McCree was talking to you.

“...Sorry what?”

“I said, are you alright? What’d that Shrike do to spook you?” McCree asked gently. 

“I uh. I…” You stumbled. “Well, Shrike’s gone now so, it’s, you know, nothing. It’s fine, everything’s fine. The more important thing is, did we pass a liquor store on the way over there because I would love to just, pay it a visit, get reacquainted, say hello-”

“God Damnit stop doing that.” McCree stepped away, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I wasn’t actually going to get anything to drink. Probably.” You definitely were. Still, would if you had the chance.

“That’s not what I meant. Stop acting like I don’t know you. I know,” McCree sighed. “I know everything is different. I know. But I still know you. I know when you’re upset. I know when you’re avoiding something. I know there’s a lot that’s happened that no one is telling me. I just. Just talk to me, please.”

You were never more grateful for your visor than you were at that moment. Because you couldn’t meet McCree in the eyes. You both lingered on that dark street, the silence so heavy you almost sat down. When you glanced at him he seemed so tired. Just as weighed down by everything as you were. 

“Shrike’s rifle, fired nanite syringes. That’s what spooked me.” You admitted, finally getting your body to move. The sooner you got to the plane the more comfortable you’d be. 

“... Your hands put out nanites right?” McCree starts slow, soft.

“Yeah, I know, makes it really silly right?” You laughed. Your laugh had never sounded faker. Great job. Excellent acting. Why didn’t you use your vocal synthesis?

“How’d you get ‘em?”

“... Can I, Can I not talk about that right now? I… It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, McCree. It’s just. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m already all, worn out from, Shrike.” Tracer is waiting for you already, bless her speed.

“Yeah, when you’re ready. I’ll be waitin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a companion piece from Jesse's point of view that ends about this chapter. You can view it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12604040


	24. Beep!

“Beep Beep Boop!” You half sung.

“Beep Boop!” The Bastion in front of you responded, giving you a delighted grin. You had been lounging in the rec room waiting for the tabletop game to start when the omnic had wandered in. Charmed by its first few noises you mimicked it, and though you were likely speaking nonsense you had been chirping back and forth for the better part of an hour now.

“Beep, Beep beep boop beep!” You were probably asking them about their taxes. 

“Bweep, Beep, Boop!” Bastion kindly, sweetly answered back about not having to pay taxes on account of not having a job. Which is a very reasonable reason for not paying taxes. You think. Could just be beeping at you for the sake of it. You were both mindlessly beeping at each other and that was the best foundation for a new friendship. 

“Bweep Bweep Bweep!” You smiled.

“What are you doing?” You glanced over at Torb, who was watching you over his food like you just grew a second head.

“We’re having a conversation! About… prime ecological conditions for grain. Aren’t we Bastion?”

“Beep!”

The Bastion engages in your bullshit with you; you have never been happier in your entire life. This is it. This is the pinnacle of what it is to be Adder. There will never be anything to top this. Not even the delicious sandwich Hanzo hands to you as he joins you on your seat. Torbjorn looks like he isn’t sure if he approves or disapproves of your conversation with Bastion. His feelings on omnics weren’t a secret, but Bastion was, Bastion. It took an hour and you love the adorable turret unconditionally.

“And what conclusion have you two come to?” Hanzo asked, stirring his soup.

“Well, we believe beep.”

“Boop!”

“Yes, yes, good point Bastion. Also boop.” You are smiling from ear to ear. What a sweet thing. What a magnificent robot. The little bird that flies through the door and lands on Bastion’s outstretched arm just makes the whole thing cuter. You could die. This is how you will die. From cuteness. Which is a huge improvement from your previous candidate ‘alcohol poisoning’. That’s not to say it’s not still in the running. It’s just a solid second.

“Fweep!” Bastion motions to the bird.

“That is the cutest bird I’ve ever seen Bastion. Is he your… wingman?”

Torbjorn groaned. 

“Their friendship is too close for a pecking order.” McCree grinned as he finally showed up, snagging a chip off of Hanzo’s plate. 

“Done dodging game night McCree?” You teased.

“I haven’t been dodgin’ nothin.” McCree grumbled, taking a few glances at the papers Hanzo set in front of him. “Edwin Re’Zareth? What sort of name is that?”

“Half-Elf.” Hanzo popped a grape into his mouth, pretending not to notice McCree stealing more of his chips.

“I don’t know what you two see in this nonsense.” McCree shook his head slowly.

“I am nonsense Personified, I’ll have you know. My every being is nonsense. When the world was young I was formed from the chaotic either to continue being chaotic ether. Which was really a huge waste of time. Probably should have left the original ether alone there was no need to give it a recolor.” You ramble. Bastion beeps when you’re done and you laugh.

“See! Bastion agrees with me.”

“I think the robot’s just humoring you,” McCree replied, a look on his face that said he was humoring you too. You still needed to talk things out with him. You didn’t have to put much effort into avoiding it, he was no longer looking at you like questions were piling up in his throat. But it was inevitable. It was just a matter of when you were gonna open your mouth.

“Is everyone ready for adventure?!” Reinhardt shouted, carrying his big box of materials in with him. You cheered, jumping up into your chair.

“Our heroes are surrounded by goblins! The Goblin Party’s Leader points at you and opens his great, rotted mouth to issue a booming command, when a shot rings out, striking the leader between the eyes. A familiar face wielding an enchanted steel pistol greets the party!” 

“Hi there, never introduced myself to your friends. Edwin Ri’Zareth. Marksman Extraordinaire.” McCree smiled, eyes flicking between his papers and Hanzo.

“I thought I smelled a half-elf. I thought Linan had just lost some glimmer.” Hanzo grinned. You make a face at him.

“If you smelled only one of us then you surely have lost some of your senses in your old age.” You snarked.

“Can you guys hate-flirt after we’ve defeated the goblins?” Hana asked.

“There’s never a bad time to hate flirt. It pleases the Death God. I cast divine protection.” The group handled the goblins quickly, mostly thanks to Hana’s paladin’s great sword.

“So what brings you to these parts, Ri’Zareth? Wouldn’t happen to be looking to join a party in sore need of a marksman would you?” Torbjorn asked.

“Please, Edwin. I’m looking for treasure. And what better treasure than a dragon in one hand and an elf in the other?” McCree winked.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Hana muttered.

“Sounds interesting. We’ll be pleased to have you.” Hanzo smiled.

“Oh, you will be.” McCree added.

“We should probably move on, this was just a goblin scout party.” Lucio pointed out, so helpfully. You didn’t want the game to dissolve into just thinly veiled flirting. At least, not all the time. Once in a while maybe. It was a little bit fun.

“A strange, ethereal light is glittering in the center of the cave. It’s silver and sings to you of your deepest desires. What do you do?” Reinhardt asked.

“I examine it, using my awareness of otherworldly creatures to sense what it is.” Hanzo decides, rolling his dice and wincing.

“The creature sings to you of your deepest desires, seducing you into a deep sleep,” Reinhardt says.

“Well, there goes the dragon. Anyone else want to taunt the evil glowing ball?” Torbjorn asks.

“I roll to shoot it,” McCree said confidently. “...That’s what you say right?”

“Please shoot the ball.” You giggled. McCree rolled, glancing at you and Hanzo to gauge your reactions. His was mild approval. Yours was a huge grin.

“The creature attempts to seduce you, but you are already too deeply entangled in the combined allures of a dragon and an elf. The creature’s magic does not affect you and you destroy it with a single shot. Syvie subsequently wakes up.” Reinhardt snorts. McCree has a big, triumphant grin that makes your giggle turn to a laugh.

“All Hail Our Seductive Powers! Not even a mysterious imp can beat our beauty Syvie.” You fanned yourself.

“ _Our_ beauty?” Hanzo asked with an eyebrow raised. You shot him a warning glare.

“No fighting now, you’re both beautiful.” McCree’s lips twitched. “Not even a pretty light can distract me from my treasures.”

“Aren’t I the one supposed to be collecting treasure?” Hanzo mused. 

“Consider me collected.” McCree let his smile slip through. His eyes roamed from Hanzo to you with a warm seriousness. You looked back at your character sheet as if going over your stats. Definitely didn't notice that.

"Oh? Part of my collection are you? Careful what you promise, Marksman." Hanzo said.

"Linan, how much would it cost to get you to cast silence onto either one of them. I'm all for, whatever is happening here, as long as it can happen quietly." Hana asked.

You took a long moment before finally saying. "I have an amulet that'll do it. If we come across anywhere with puddles of water I want to be carried across. You can't put me down until I say you can."

"... Deal." Hana nodded. Good timing too. Too much flirting was, too much.


	25. You're not the biggest asshole involved and that is a point of pride for you

Gotta go fast is bullshit propaganda designed by people who have a very specific kink that you are not privy to.

You were paired with Lucio for a first, his speed practically catapulting you into your opponents. It was almost terrifying. And by almost you meant it was really fucking terrifying. You didn’t know how is tech worked and you really didn’t want to. You should not move that fast. It was like drinking red bull and vodka. Multiple cans. It was really inadvisable. You were pretty sure that you were a little motion sick and it was awful. You feared your small green friend. He was so nice. So sweet. So kind. So capable of spinning you in a you-tornado. You could see after images of yourself where you were standing a moment ago. Why were all the healers like this.

Maybe. Maybe you just have a fear of doctors. Maybe you should have thought about this sooner. Before you agreed to go on a mission with one. Or really at any time that seems like something to figure out. 

You could talk it out with Zenyatta. He and Genji completed their mission just before you and Lucio had. Or you could not do that. And bottle up those emotions with all of the other emotions. Into a nice emotion cocktail. Which suited you on multiple levels. All you needed was to go out in a burst of flame to really put the whole image together.

You were distracted from yourself by an explosion rocking the air. You jumped out of your seat, spying smoke billowing up from the ground below. “Tracer?”

“Landing!”

It took Tracer too long to get the plane on the ground. You were grateful for Lucio’s nightmare boost sending your group blurring through the streets, dodging civilians and debris as you raced for the source of the smoke. There was gunfire, a few smaller explosions. You watched a man go down in front of you, recognizing the dart in his throat.

“Adder!”

You ran for the sound, finding Shrike firing from behind what was now a half wall. You slammed into a man trying to vault over, scraping your hands against his face and throwing him down. You took his place, Lucio following after you. Genji and Zenyatta immediately began attacking the shooters firing towards Shrike’s hiding place.

76 was unconscious on the ground, shuffled behind the remains of a broken table. He was covered in blood but seemed to be breathing alright. Shrike was a different story. The sniper’s mask was off, hair matted with sweat, a single eye glaring through the sight of the rifle. Now you knew why the voice was so familiar.

“Your daughter thinks you’re dead you ass.” You mutter, checking over 76 while Lucio played his healing beats. Which were actually pretty fucking sweet. It made every awkward moment better. 

“Talon cornered us. Get him out of here.” Shrike, Lt. Amari?, Amari?, Fuck it, asshole mc talk to your kid, ordered. You immediately pulled 76 onto your shoulders, letting Lucio help you drag him out of there and boost you back towards the plane. A blue streak let you know that Amari had plenty of support in the fight. She didn’t necessarily need you or Lucio just yet. Especially with her damn nanite needles.

“His wounds are closed, stay with him and I’ll bring everyone back.” Lucio didn’t wait for you to answer before he ran out the door. You didn’t mind too much. You stood guard over the old man, glancing over at him with a lift of your eyebrows. Genji. McCree. Amari. Who was ‘dead’ but wasn’t? Who was 76 really? There was no doubt that he was also ex-Overwatch. Did anyone think the Petras act was really going to keep a single one of you fuckers from doing something? The one who came the closest was Ziegler and it didn’t count if she was still a doctor. 

Lucio appeared back with Amari, leaving her in your care as he ran back to grab Zenyatta and Genji. You handed her a bottle of water and returned to your watch at the door. 

“So. How do you know my Fareeha?” Amari eventually spoke, turning to stare at you.

“Um, look at me? How could you ask me that. As if anyone could resist all of this.” You say, motioning to yourself. You two watch each other for just a moment before you shrug and drop the joke.

“She’s one of us.” You go back to watching the street.

“... I never wanted this life for her.”

“The woman can fly and has a rocket launcher. I think at this point no one else’s opinions matter.” You shrug. Pharah can do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. Maybe Ana could hit her down with the sleep dart but that only solved the problem of Pharah being in the air. She would wake up and when she woke up she would have a rocket launcher. It was a fight you didn’t think was worth getting into. Plus, Pharah was the heroic type. She deserved to be part of things.

You heard her sigh. “Are you going to tell her?”

“What? No. You tell her. I’ve talked to her personally like twice. Never been on a mission with her. Personally, I think that’d be a bad idea. A great way to get myself blown up by a stray rocket. Sure it’d be an accident but I mean. I’d still be pretty dead. We’re like. Distant co-worker friendly. You’re like, her mom. One of us has more of a personal stake in telling her that her mother is not dead. And I’m not an expert in interpersonal relations but, going out on a limb here, I’m gonna assume that person is you.” You glared out of the corner of your eyes.

“I have my reasons.”

“That’s personal and I won’t ask. I’m sorta at co-worker level with you too. It’s none of my business why you hid. It’s up to you whether or not it’s relevant enough to tell her. You could just be like hey, sorry Fareeha, not dead. My bad.” You ignored the look she gave you. You were right. You didn’t move from your spot until Lucio brought in the stragglers. You checked on 76 and took your seat.

“Sorry if I was harsh or anything, Shrike. If it makes you feel any better I still need an awkward conversation myself. It’s gotta be done, one way or another. You’ll be fine.” You smile. She just looks tired. You sympathize. 

“... When 76 wakes up I’m going to tell him I kidnapped him to join Overwatch.”

“Please do not.”

“Lieutenant Amari-”

“Ana.”

“Ana, I’m going do it. It’s gonna be hilarious. Wait let me just, put his rifle over here and- there. Now it’ll be hilarious.” You sit back down.

“Perhaps that’s not the best idea, Adder.” Zenyatta interrupted. Cruelly striking your hopes down. Betrayal, it stings like nothing else.

“Fine, fine, I’ll just read a book. Like boring people do. Also, one of you is going to have to explain to him what’s going on cause I’m not gonna do it.” You flicked open a book, settling back into your seat.

“I have it handled,” Ana said softly, rubbing her forehead. 

“... Hey Ana?” You asked.

“Yes?”

“If you get anywhere near me with your super-darts I will punch you in the throat. Not sting, just a punch, but I will punch you.” Or any of her darts really. She could just keep her ammo, over there. Away from you.

“... I figured as much.”

“In the Throat, Ana.”


	26. Fuck You Old Man

Winston was so unhappy. Not with you, surprisingly. You would have thought that he would be several different kinds of pissed, given that he really didn’t want you to actually bring 76 to the base. But you did bring Ana and you did save lives. So that put you in the good column. No, Winston was just unhappy with 76 in general. The old man was a nightmare. A whirlwind of criticism and harsh comments. And, because Ana was staying to meet with Pharah, he was still there.

You were put in charge of watching him, given full authority to just paralyze him and leave him on the ground. So far you didn’t have the opportunity, but you were waiting. You imagined that he would slip up during one of his increasingly frequent rants about literally anything he saw.

“I don’t need an escort.” 76 grumbled and was presumably glaring at you from behind his mask. You look him in the face, make a show of bringing your hand up, and flick open a book. You bring the screen in front of your face. He grumbles under his breath, probably something rude, and slams open the door to leave the training area. He was real lucky that he was allowed to keep his rifle. You should have tossed it out the plane when you get the chance. 

“The monkey must be desperate if he’s letting the dropouts into his group.” 76 remarked as he checked his rifle. You rolled your eyes and turned the page. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted to pick a fight with you so bad. Well. You could. It probably had something to do with you being an asshole. And the whole kidnapping thing. Even though it was less kidnapping and more rescue mission. And no one let you tell him that it was kidnapping either. Spoilsports.

You figured he was one of a handful of possible people. And each one deserved their teeth knocked out for letting everyone think they were dead. At least for letting Reinhardt thing they were dead. The man was bigger than life and soft-hearted as hell. He cried for a solid hour after seeing Ana. You should probably learn something from him. Like, expressing yourself in ways besides long-winded nonsense metaphors and lying. Actually, that was pretty much the same thing. You lie a bit too much.

“Well don’t worry. We’re also letting criminals in. That’s why you’re here.” You smile your biggest, fakest smile.

“I’m not part of this joke.” He snarled, resting the rifle over his shoulder. “This is a mess. There’s no planning, no effort. It’s a bunch of misfits trying to play hero.”

You flicked your book away, following him into the rec room. You noted that Hanzo and McCree were back but really. Not top priority. You had something to handle. They would probably get involved anyway. You followed 76 to a table in the corner where he set his rifle down.

“I don’t know why Amari thinks we need your help. You’re liabilities. Destined to get caught.” Yeah, you were a really bad choice for this. From like. Day one.

“He couldn’t lead a team out of his office, forget a real force. It takes tactics, skill, experience. Not pipe dreams and peanut butter.”

“That’s a lot of shit talking for a group that saved you.” You’re calm. Soft. There’s a sweetness to your voice. You hear someone stand and you’re willing to bet it was Hanzo.

“Didn’t need it. No one needs help from Reyes’ murderers. Putting you in Winston’s hands is an accident waiting to happen. He doesn’t have what it takes to make the tough calls-” You cut him off with a punch to the throat. You were going to punch him in the face, but that mask was probably metal and you didn’t want to deal with it. He doesn’t waste any time in hitting you back, right in the jaw, which ow. You sweep his legs, grabbing his arm and wrenching it. He was much stronger than you, but he was no Genji. You were an equal match, and you hadn’t even broken out your needles yet.

The two of you didn’t have much time for trading blows before everyone else stepped in. Reinhardt swept in to pull 76 back. Hanzo and McCree each looped an arm around your waist and held one of your hands as they dragged you away. Lucio lept between the two of you, holding out his arms and watching warily. Hana joined him, though she looked like she wanted to let you go at it.

“Shit talk Reyes or Winston again you old fuck. Reyes is dead and Winston is the best fucking leader we could ask for. I will fucking break you.” You snarled. 

“You’re not a threat to-”

“Enough!” Winston swept in, followed closely by Ana and Pharah. “What’s going on?”

“The old man’s an asshole.”

“Your attack dog got out of its muzzle.”

“Winston literally won’t let me kill people fuck you.” You go to wiggle loose and get pulled in tighter.

Winston sighed. “76 please come with me and Ana, we have to have a conversation. Adder, please go with McCree and Hanzo, there’s a mission that needs urgent attention. Prepare as quickly as you can.”

“You sure Winston? I won’t kill him. Maim a little. It’ll be fine. Mercy’s on base right? It’ll be so fine. He won’t even have a scar. Cause that’s not how it works. Have a hell of a limp though.” You grinned a vicious, toothy smile. Winston slowly shook his head, shepherding your little trio out of the room. Hanzo and McCree practically carried you out, both clearly aware that you were still thinking of running back and jump kicking the fucker in the chest.

“Need to see Mercy?” McCree asked softly. You shook your head, trying to direct your group to your rooms.

“You were waiting to hit him,” Hanzo remarked.

“Yep.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yesssss.” You grinned. Hanzo sighed and released you, forcing you to actually walk or make McCree drag you. Although being dragged was tempting. It would be kinda funny. But then McCree had to go and release you too. 

“Sorry. I know that wasn’t the best move.” You admitted, shrugging.

“Nah, somebody had to kick his ass. Plus he’s been trying to get under your skin all week.” McCree shrugged.

“Yeah. Fucker.” You mutter. “What’s our mission?”

“Heard some human trafficking rumors. Winston and Tracer saved the victims but Winston wants us to check out the would-be recipients.” McCree paused in front of his room, watching you and Hanzo walk to yours.

“I’m assuming he doesn’t want us to kill them?” You grinned at McCree, earning a small smile from him.

“Probably not.”


	27. Closure

By the time Tracer got the three of you close enough to drop you off, your face’s swelling had gone down. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. You must’ve knocked the wind out of 76 with your first punch. If you had stung him you could’ve gotten a few more in. Maybe avoided a giant bruise in your jawline. As it was you had to raise your visor before you started towards the coordinates Tracer gave you.

There had been 15 victims, which were now safely returned to their homes and families. Which was frankly too many. They had a strangely wide range of attributes though. Rarely did any two of them share a similar trait. There was something more going on. It was an easy enough mission. Go in, gather information, go out. An excellent reason to physically separate you from the guy you wanted to fist fight in the streets.

You felt your breath leave you when you gazed upon the building that sat upon the coordinates. Winston wasn’t going to be happy with the outcome of this mission. You were going to kill. You weren’t sure how many you would get through before Hanzo or McCree could stop you. But it would be enough.

The compound was modest on the outside. A single wall. One two-story building in the center. A parking lot. There was a small building in the back for groundskeeping equipment and trucks. But the top two stories were just for show. The compound had 13 basements, each spreading far beyond the ground level lot. The first level down was administration. The second level, living quarters. The third level, your average lab setup. Levels four through six were. Levels four through medical levels. Surgical suites. Levels seven, through 11, were training facilities. Levels 12 and 13 were... Were containment levels. You knew exactly what was going to happen to those people if Winston hadn’t rescued them.

You clenched your fists, glaring. You Knew.

Their buildings were always the same. Each one had the same. Damned. Layout. The logo, a white arc over cursive lettering, stained the side of the building. Dripping towards you. Reaching for you. You wanted to tear its damn hands off.

“We can’t do this. Turn back.” Hanzo was speaking, grabbing your arm and trying to guide you away. But you weren’t moving. You were standing stone still, your face obscured by your visor and twisted into a soundless snarl.

“What’s wrong?” McCree moved behind you, towards Hanzo.

“These are the people that…” There was silence. You knew they were looking at you. At the strip of neck between your hair and your jacket. The glimmer of two of the neon orange implant that ran down your spine. You wouldn’t have time to explain everything that happened to McCree. You didn’t even have the time to be standing there, paralyzed by anger and fear.

So you moved. Out of Hanzo’s hand and into the compound. You barely registered them following after you. You wrenched the door open, snagging the rifle carrying guards before they lifted them. They convulsed on the floor as the nanites hit them. Tearing at their nervous systems. You weren’t even sure when you chameleon-ed into one of them, but the guards who had come running were confused long enough for them to die too. Five bodies. That was five more people than you should be killing. But fuck if you weren’t, if you weren’t so damn mad.

You lost Hanzo and McCree at some point. You’re losing yourself at any point. Everything is just, a fight. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you never got out. That it’s still that last day. That there are still so many bodies for you to get through. That they’re all holding you in. Pushing you back. They won’t let you go. You have to make them let you go.

You make it to the large ‘dining hall’ that you know hides the elevator to the underground labs. Like you expected, a wall shifted and opened. A group of armed men. And in their center. A familiar face. He smiles at you and slowly motions his men down.

“Agent Thorn! It’s been a long time. I’m glad that you’ve come back. I’ve got some excellent ideas to add to your system.” The scientist, a man whose name you’ve never learned, walks towards you as though he’s completely confident in his ability to survive. His men seem less sure, rifles aimed at your head, waiting for a reason.

“I knew eventually you would return. There’s no one out there who can handle your systems like we can. You must be in sore need of upkeep. We’ll have to restrain you again, I’m sure you understand. You’re unpredictable.” He’s getting too close. You have to move but you can’t. Your thoughts aren’t staying still. They’re melting away from you. He’s getting too close and you can’t get away. He’s too close. He’s too fucking close.”

“We’ll need to shave that hair down again, but that’s alright. I’m sure all your parts are functioning fine.” He’s within reaching distance and he stops, forehead just barely furrowing. You weren’t sure why you waited so long to scream. The closest guard flicks off the safety on his rifle and is met with an arrow in the throat. Another goes down in a snap of gunfire. You lunge, hands around the scientist’s throat, nanites swarming into his system. But only to paralyze. You squeeze, and squeeze, amidst the sound of gunshots and death.

You keep squeezing even after he’s dead. Gentle hands pull you off of him. Arms wrap around you and a gunshot shatters the dead man’s face. You’re guided out of the building even after alarms begin to sound. You manage to reach out to the purple skull icon. This is a good use of a favor. You hear a distant greeting and manage to message back ‘shutdown building’ before you fade out of consciousness. 

You wake up again on the plane. Hanzo has you leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped out you. He’s murmuring to McCree, who’s got your hand in his, and an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. He glances down at your open eyes and squeezes your hand. 

You whisper your story to McCree, reaching your free hand to grab one of Hanzo’s. You didn’t think you’d ever be in one of those buildings again. You also didn’t think you’d waste one of your favors on an escape. Maybe you just associated the icon with safety. Which was, fairly embarrassing. You would never live it down if she found out.

“That man was… He was the one who changed me. That’s why I can’t, I can’t use that name. I’m so sorry.” You finish softly. The plane is already close to landing, and you can hear Tracer sniffling in the front. You probably have a few seconds to start moving before she joins into your cuddle group.

McCree slowly stands up, pulling the two of you up with him. “You’re still you, darlin’. No matter what we call you. No matter what happened.”

You’re surprised that it makes you smile. You cling to Hanzo with one hand, reaching out to McCree with the other. He immediately takes your hand. 

“... Does that mean I was always an asshole?” You muse, trying to get your humor all the way back. McCree grins at you.

“Why do you think Reyes recruited you?” He asked.

“... You just called yourself an asshole, you know.”

“You both are. Clearly I have a type.” Hanzo sighed. You snorted and almost broke into a laugh. You stopped as what he said actually dawned on you. You looked over to McCree, who had the biggest grin on his face.

“Someone’s got good tastes.”

"Oh? Who?" Hanzo asked. You laughed this time.

“They’re a mythical figure. A cryptid. Like the mothman. Except they aren’t in the states they’re somewhere in Numbani. The one person capable of making good dating decisions. There’s blurry photos of them all over the internet.” You reply. You smile as Hanzo chuckles, wiggling your eyebrows at McCree’s fake indignance. You might just be okay.


	28. A Rose, Just as Sweet

You glare at 76 from across the table. Apparently, he’s agreed to be civil if you’re being civil. Which is so, so hard. Because neither of you likes each other. Because, according to him, you’re still ‘too loyal’ to Reyes despite Talon having come out of Blackwatch. And, according to you, 76 can go fuck himself. He was more than welcome to meet you in the training yard so you could hand him his own ass. Winston decided to solve your mutual dislike by making the two of you ‘talk it out’ in the conference room. Neither of you was talking.

“... You know, we’re pretty close to a cliff. If we make a break for it, we can jump and then it’s 50/50 we either die or escape.” You finally remark.

“Amari’s watching the entrances.” 76 replied. 

“Neither of the possible options for that sentence are good options.” You mutter. Although, to you personally, the rockets were the better option.

“Ana won’t shoot you.” 76 wasn’t looking at you. “She knows how you feel about her rifle’s tech.”

“Then how would she stop me.”

“Lucio’s waiting outside to speed boost you back in here.” 

“Well. Fuck.” Yeah, you were, squarely team rocket launcher. Where was Pharah. You were ready. “The only solution is for us to lie and become friends. Quick, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor.”

“To lie _and_ become friends?” 76 turned back to you.

“I meant lie about becoming friends but the only thing we have in common is that we’re both huge liars. If anything is actually going to bond us together in any sort of way it’s going to be that. I’d prefer not too. But really, we’re trapped in here unless you have a better idea.” You point out.

“... Just say vanilla everyone would believe you.”

“Is it actually your favorite ice cream. 76. 76 you can tell me. 76 it really is isn’t it. That’s okay man, it’s good ice cream. Wait. do you put sprinkles on it. Do you call them jimmies. Do you call sprinkles jimmies. I need to know. Don’t get up Ana’s going to shoot you. 76 come back. 76 do you call sprinkles jimmies.” You got up, following him towards the door.

“No, and I prefer mocha gelato.” 76 huffed. “What about you?”

“I haven’t had ice cream since I first woke up with amnesia.” You shrugged. “I have no idea what it even tastes like. Sprinkles I imagine taste like they do on cupcakes. Which is, like nothing.”

“... You haven’t had ice cream.”

“No, but my favorite kind of liquor is bourbon, but after you put a shit ton of brown sugar in there and shake it. Then it’s awful for you for two reasons.” But so, so good. Also good as a base for cookies. And cake. And marinades. And everything.

“...Tell your boyfriend to buy you some damn ice cream.” 76 grumbled. You fake a gasp, covering your heart with your hand.

“76… Is that, are you being, nice to me? Oh my. Oh dear. I’m telling Ziegler. She has to know. This is a serious medical condition. I’ve never been more concerned in my life. Well, I mean, I have. But this is pretty high up there regardless.”

“Adder.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

You flinched when you caught sight of Ana, casually smiling at the doorway. Part of you hoped 76 was kidding. She didn’t have her rifle up but she was fast. Speaking of fast. You nervously glanced around. You would love to be able to heal yourself. There had to be a way. And then you would never have to work with a healer again. You did like Zenyatta though. Except when he followed you around gently pelting you with the damn orbs. Every spar ended up like that. Just. softly being tapped in the head. Repeatedly. From all angles. Motherfucker.

“Are you two going to get along now?” Ana called out.

“His favorite ice cream is apparently gelato? Is that even ice cream? He won’t tell me if he calls sprinkles jimmies or not.” You answered. You’re betting he does. At least you hope he does. You’re not even sure why that’s a subject of importance for you but it is. You briefly consider calling them jimmies yourself just to eventually force him to do the same, but that’s a lot of sacrifice on your part for a joke.

Ana laughed, slinging her rifle over her back. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

“As long as we’re under threat of being speed boosted and or shot in the face with a tranquilizer, absolutely. We’re the best of friends. I’m going back to my room to make us beaded friendship bracelets.” You grin, taking a few slow steps before breaking out into a jog. You wondered if this meant that 76 and Ana were sticking around. Poor Winston.

You wander to the rec room, hoping that the kitchens had ice cream. What else had you not eaten? Pizza? No, you ate that all the time. It was just so convenient. You still haven’t gotten around to cooking anything properly. Someone else always cooked, or there was a kitchen full of premade stuff. The most you had ever done was make a sandwich. You should probably do something exciting for once. A pasta maybe. Or something baked. Get fancy with it. Keep Mei on hand in case you started to burn down the kitchen.

“Stop!” Hana shouted as you stepped through the rec room doors. You threw up your hands, slowly taking a step back.

“Go to your room!” Hana ordered, then laughed.

“Um… why?” Maybe she assumed you and 76 hadn’t decided to ‘get along’? She would be right. Technically you didn’t. Someday you would fight him again when it was just you and him and then the winner would get to run away from Ziegler.

“Just go! Trust me. Go.” Hana said with the biggest grin, shooing you away with her hands. You slowly shrugged and obeyed. It was probably a prank, which explains why you didn’t see Lucio actually waiting outside of the conference room. He was busy doing, whatever it is that you were about to walk into.

Everything seemed pretty peaceful. The only thing out of the ordinary was Reinhardt passing you by trying very hard not to look suspicious. Which made you even more suspicious. How’d they get him in on it. What did they do. The more you thought about it the more you tensed up. It wasn’t going to be anything awful. Like a room full of Ana’s syringes. Your friends weren’t total assholes. But it was going to be weird. Like. A room full of jello cups nailed to the wall. Or just. A room covered in tinfoil or something. 

You found Hanzo as you walked to your room, looking as suspicious as you did. You took his hand, winding your fingers together. “Everyone tell you to come to the room?”

“Genji and Zenyatta. It was very strange.”

“They’re up to some shit. If it’s a stink bomb we’re stealing McCree’s room.” You remark.

“...That man.” Hanzo murmured.

There’d been something between the three of you ever since that mission. You think it would be there would be something even if Hanzo hadn’t admitted that he had feelings for McCree. It was just there. One of you would have to talk about it. And you hope both Hanzo and McCree knew it wasn’t going to be you. You waited until you absolutely had to each time every time and nothing was gonna stop that. You motioned for Hanzo to open the door first. He rolled his eyes and unlocked the door.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Roses.

Woven walls of roses were attached to the walls. A dozen orbs stuffed full of roses dangled from the ceiling. Every surface that could hold a vase of roses did. At the door there was even a rose covered archway. You couldn’t see the floor for all the petals that were scattered there. McCree was waiting there, leaning against your dresser, a rose in each hand and a smirk on his face.

“I…” You stopped; you couldn’t talk or you’d cry.

McCree took over from you. “I never stopped lovin’ you darlin’. It took me a while but… I started thinkin’ you and Hanzo looked mighty fine. I figured. If it worked the first time.”

You didn’t know how to react. You were frozen. Your mind surprisingly blank for once. You just stood there, silent, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. When you actually moved it wasn’t you, it was Hanzo, gently shuffling you forward. The door closed behind the two of you. He took your hand, guided you after him until you were close enough for McCree to take your other hand.

“Whatcha say?” McCree said softly.

You glanced between the two men, both of them waiting on you. You finally reacted, laughing and squeezing their hands.

“I love you, both of you.” You brought their hands to your face, gently kissing both hands.

McCree laughed, swinging his free arm around Hanzo and kissing him. You grinned at them and dropped their hands to snag McCree’s hat. He glanced at you as he trailed kisses across Hanzo’s jawline. You smirked.

“Didn’t I make you a promise?” You asked, placing it on the dresser long enough to pull off your shirt. You put the hat on your head and smiled. When you looked up from pulling off your pants both men were watching. You wiggle your eyebrows at them and head for the bed. When you sit down their clothes are coming off too.

McCree, no, Jessie, it’s always been Jessie, takes one of your hands, kissing each implant slowly. Deliberately. Hanzo mimics him with your other hand, reaching across to stroke Jessie’s face. They kiss up your arms, taking turns to kiss the node on your throat. Hanzo kisses up your face, lips touching on the nodes on your face. 

You would really like, to stay still, and let your lovers kiss over your skin. Over every one of your implants. Over every inch of your skin. Unfortunately staying still is way more difficult than you’d like. Especially when you want to touch them. And you can’t help it. You can’t stay still one second more. You grab Jesse’s face, pressing your lips hungrily to his. Remembering them. Your kiss was different but it didn’t matter. He was him. You were you.

You smiled.

Hanzo had traveled back down, kissing down your torso and down your thighs. His lips fluttered along the edge of your prosthetic feet. He moved from one leg to the other, moving up until he sat between your thighs. He teased you with kisses that barely made contact, making you squirm before he even began to use his tongue. 

Jesse grinned when you moaned into his lips. “Sound good as ever.”

“If you don’t start kissing me again I’ll bite you.” You gasp. Jesse gives you a thoughtful look, and then tilts his head up, presenting his neck to you. You slowly smile, pulling him closer to nip and lick at his throat. Jesse shivered with each gentle scrape of your teeth, inhaling sharply whenever your moans timed with your bites.

“Leave some space for me.” Hanzo murmured, watching your marks slowly appear across Jesse’s neck. You nod, going over your marks again, watching them darken on his skin. You stop and brush your tongue against Jesse’s lower lip. The husky look that spreads across his face makes you smile. The smile melts away as Hanzo doubles his efforts between your legs, drawing a loud moan out of you when he makes you cum. You shudder and only avoid falling back because of Jesse’s arm around you. 

Hanzo kisses you passionately, leaving you breathless and with swollen lips. He immediately pulled Jesse’s body against his own, taking eagerly to the task of leaving his own marks over Jesse’s neck and shoulders. 

You watched lazily from the other side of the bed, your hand casually dipping below. You savored every groan and gasp Jesse made. Now you just had to draw some noises out of Hanzo. It didn’t take too long for Hanzo to make Jesse cum too. You snagged his hand, casually licking it clean before smirking at the stunned expression on either of their faces. A rough, heated look pooled into Jesse’s eyes and he grinned.

“Looks like someone likes to be the center of attention.” He purred.

“Oh? Barely finding that out now? Nothing ever clued you in? There was never any-” Hanzo crushed his lips into yours, stopping your rant before it began. You groaned. It was a struggle not to entwine your arms around him. But you had plans, damnit.

“Sit...sit down…” You gasped out shakily. Hanzo smiled, clearly pleased that he sent your head spinning with just a kiss. He sat with his back against the wall waiting for you. You rested your elbows on either side of his hips, the flat of your tongue brushing at his cock. You glanced at Jessie and wiggled your hips at him. He smirked and got up, pulling a condom out of his discarded jeans. His hand traced your entrance as you worked your tongue against Hanzo. So help you he was gonna moan for you. You moaned instead, as Jesse began to push his way into you. At least he had the consideration to groan. 

You adjusted yourself so your hands rested against Hanzo’s stomach, tracing patterns on his skin as you wrapped your lips around the head of his dick. You rested your eyes on his, admiring the dreamy look in them. He shuddered against you as you moaned. He caught Jesse’s hat as it slid off your head, placing it on his own with a smile.

“I guess I better….bring two… two hats next time.” Jesse grunted breathlessly behind you.

“If you can talk you’re not doing it hard enough,” Hanzo replied. You smiled and took him until you could feel his tip pressing against your throat. Hanzo finally cried out, his hands wrapping into your hair, beginning to guide you as Jesse began to lose his rhythm. You finished first, your mind pulsing with light as you tried to keep your mouth on task. Jesse followed quickly after, tensing behind you and calling out your name with a guttural groan. Hanzo was the last, cursing frantically and twisting his hands into your hair. You barely rolled yourself off, resting your head on his thigh.

“Let’s steal all of Jesse’s sarapes so he can’t cover up the bites.” You murmur. Hanzo laughs tiredly, stroking your shoulders. Jesse drops on Hanzo’s other side, wrapping his arms around Hanzo’s torso. 

“Why would I cover them? I like ‘em.” Jesse muttered, closing his eyes. You giggle, and the three of you fall asleep in a sweaty tangle.


	29. Shedding Scales

You woke up, a little sore, surrounded on either side by the men you loved most in this world. You bit back a chuckle, wiggling your way out of their grasps so you could stumble towards the bathroom. You would have loved to spend the entire day lounging in bed with them. They were so dang warm. Just leech the warmth. Steal it all for yourself and then slowly roll away into the sunset. And then steal the sun’s warmth. Luckily for the sun, you have plans for the day.

You start with a quick shower, dressing as you fondly noticed Jesse had closed the gap you left to cuddle Hanzo. Then you leave them to their morning. They could find you easily enough if they wanted to. You were glowing orange. It was kind of hard not to notice you. 

You snagged a plate full of breakfast pastries, nearly running it to the surprisingly large space Torbjorn had claimed as his workshop. The organization was growing by the day but no one was going to argue Torbjorn out of his space. It was two stories, half of it dedicated to shelves full of parts and projects, the other half a series of desks covered in tools. If it looked like a mess, it was only because your work tools were pretty much built in. Your desk was previously perfectly empty. You kept it for funsies.

“Torbjoooorn. I brought sweets.” You called out, weaving around the shelves to put the plate on the only empty spot you could see on the desk space. Torbjorn gave you a questioning look before grabbing one of the pastries.

“And what do you want?” Torbjorn asked. You supposed it was obvious that you wanted something. You avoided this place like your life depended on it.

You grinned, grabbing one of the berry covered ones and taking a bite. “Upgrades.”

Torbjorn dropped his bread on a pile of bolts, rolling his chair to a large bookshelf filled with scrolls. “It took you long enough. Walking around with that, sub-par equipment. It’s embarrassing.”

“I want to replace it all Torb. I mean. I know I can’t replace the nanites but. You know. If it can be replaced, I want it replaced.”

“Of course! I’ve already gotten the schematics done.” Torb carried a pile of scrolls from the shelf. You eat as you watch him push things aside to pin his blueprints to a corkboard. The feet were first, sleek but clearly more heavy duty than the ones you have. The spine implant looked a little bulkier too, with notes that you didn’t understand covering it. 

“What are these, vents?” You asked, pointing.

“Better! Those shoddy feet could handle a drop of three stories. Pitiful! We’re going to do better. And! These ports? Will get you airborne!” Torbjorn practically glowed with pride. You looked at him and the blueprints skeptically.

“... What like, wings? Man. I am, shit at having a theme.” You raise your eyebrows. “Shoulda went with like. Scorpio or something.”

“Some snakes glide.” Torbjorn grinned helpfully. “Besides, it won’t be wings. It’ll just give you an upward boost.”

“Oh ok, that’s normal.” You nod.

“Although we could do wings. I could modify some of the designs from Ziegler’s suit-” Torbjorn mused.

“No! No that’s, that’s a-ok. I’ll take the boosty thing. Just pop me up high and let me do. Whatever. I am a close combat fighter Torbjorn. Remember?” You asked, finishing off your first pastry.

“Ah, but you can aim a pistol! Wait until you see what I have for your hands!” He announced enthusiastically. You kept your smile as you picked through the other sweets on the plate. Torbjorn lead you through various designs, throwing out some altogether when he decided that they weren’t ‘perfect’. And man did it have to be perfect. Which you guessed was a good thing. If you were going to be out of commission for a while getting poked at then you might as well get the best that you can. That you weren’t looking forward to. But it was time.

Torbjorn grabbed a tablet, tapping silently before nodding. “I’ll work out a schedule with Ziegler, she’ll be the one installing your new parts. We’ll work out a schedule with Winston. You’ll be in recovery for a while, especially with that spinal implant.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Mr. Lindholm.” You smile, relief already relaxing you.

“Oh none of that.” Torbjorn faked a glare.

“Sorrrryyyy. Thanks Torb.” You stood up, ripping off another chunk of bread and walking out of the room. You could hear Torb behind you with clinking metal and the whir of an electric welder. Already getting to work. You were excited. Maybe not about the ‘jettisoning yourself into the sky’ thing but hell. Why not. He was the master engineer you were just good at breaking into people’s houses and drinking their booze. You don’t miss liquor as much as you used to. Maybe in a few years, you could actually be trusted near a bottle. That would be fun. 

You walked slowly, not quite sure what you should do now. Ziegler would probably hear from Torbjorn so you didn’t necessarily have to go to the medbay. Nor were you particularly excited to go anywhere near there. The physicals. There were going to be so many physicals. You were going to lose so much of your life to eye charts and blood pressure cuffs.

Eventually, you ended up in the training yards. Because really, where else would you be. You walked to the equipment shed and grabbed a pistol. Torbjorn’s designs for your hands appeared to allow you to apply your nanite effects from a distance. You needed to get back into practice. It’d been a while since you used a pistol seriously. The few times you picked one up it was either for cover or for desperate measures. You activated some training bots, slowly starting through the old routine.

It felt good. You couldn’t help but still try to get up close to the targets, alternating between direct contact and a ranged shot. You weren’t comfortable staying far away. Getting up close allowed you options in taking people down. You cleared your first session and laid down multiple back to back. This was going to be your entire afternoon. Maybe your evening too. You don’t have many responsibilities on base. You probably should. But you didn’t.

“Mind if we join you?” Jesse called. You panted as the arena reset itself and nodded.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You wiped the sweat from your brow, drinking the rest of your water. Jesse snagged you in his arms, planting a kiss on your lips as soon as you dropped the bottle.

“I thought you wanted to train.” You chuckled.

“We do. I just also wanted a kiss.” Jesse smiled, letting you down and squaring up to start shooting at the drones. You wove in, continuing to alternate between touching and shooting.

“Using a gun today?” Hanzo asked, shooting the bot behind you.

“Torbjorn’s thinking of giving my new implants ranged capabilities of some kind. I gotta be ready for it.” You grabbed one target, shooting another.

“You’re letting him upgrade you?” Jesse sounded concerned, and there was a whir as the training session stopped. He was worrying at the back of his head and watching you.

“Yeah. I mean. I love my prosthetics. I just don’t love where they came from. He’s going to help me get rid of most of it.” You were so ready to let go and move forward. Hanzo rested a hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Good idea.”

You grin, reloading your pistol. “I thought so. Now can you restart the session or are you two afraid that I can actually outshoot you?”

“What’s the prize if we win?” Jesse smirked, tapping on the control panel.

“I’m the only prize you two will ever need. Look at me. I’m amazing. Astounding. An absolute treasure.” You posed for just a second before you had to start shooting.

“Hanzo, did you hear that Adder is our prize?” Jesse drawled lazily, firing off the hip. Hanzo fired a scatter arrow, wiping three of the bots in a cluster.

“Yes, Yes I did.”

“Well then.” Jesse shot the bot you were aiming at. You faked a glare over your shoulder and took in the look on their faces. 

Oh, they better win.


	30. Improvements

Damn your head was cold. You already missed your hair, though Ziegler assured you it would grow back. But in the meantime, it was, really cold. You needed a hoodie.Or a beanie. Or Jessie’s hat. You were faster than him now you could steal it and run. Should take something from Hanzo too. His hair tie? No that was weird.

“There, perfect.” Satya Vaswani stepped away from you, looking rather pleased with herself. And she should be. She hadn’t been in Overwatch for long when you mentioned offhand how gorgeous her hard light tech was. She didn’t say anything, just got up and walked away. You weren’t sure if you’d annoyed her or not at first. Then you saw her sitting with Torbjorn, going over schematics of your project. You didn’t understand all the details when she explained it, but you smiled and agreed all the same. She just finished the final touches on your hands. Unfortunately, the new pieces covered your entire palm and the inside of your fingers. Fortunately, it was so, so pretty. Lined with shimmery gold metal. Lovely. The needles were now hard light constructs, able to form your nanites into projectile spikes. Torbjorn promised you range and the two of them delivered. 

The design she created for your spine appliance was breathtaking enough that you exclusively had taken to wearing backless shirts. She kept the diamond theme but it now flared out at your lower back and your shoulders, weaving up your neck and your poor, cold head. Your new facial nodes were accompanied by a few flourishing lines to mimic the pattern. It was so, so damn pretty. You stretched out your hands, stepping up onto your new feet. You wiggled unsteadily for a moment. You were so fucking bouncy. You looked good, were fast as hell, but so bouncy. Torbjorn was almost done with the armor you were going to wear to further support your knees when making jumps. You needed it. You had already jumped yourself into the ceiling by accident.

“They’re perfect Satya. Beautiful. You’re a master artisan. Thank you so much.” You were grinning so wide your face hurt. “You too Torb. I’ve almost got the hang out of walking again. Gotta avoid slamming my face into walls, I can’t damage these eyes right after I got them.”

“Implyin’ my work can be damaged by a wall.” Torb huffed as he tinkered. 

“It can if your work’s what flew me into the wall.” You shrug. 

“You are welcome, they suit you. Follow me, I want to test functionality.” Satya motioned for you. You head to the training range and set up a simpler exercise. The last thing you want is to overshoot a training bot and end up off the cliff. That would be, something to explain. You crouch your way to the nearest training bot, accessing the new program that created your needles. You scratched your hands against it and waited till the nanites brought it down. So far so good. You switched to the ranged version, watching in wonder as a thin black needle built itself into your hand. You pointed and the technology fired the needle into another bot. Beautiful!

“Now let one come at your back, then activate your defense,” Satya called. You glanced at her confused, and then backed up onto a bot. You could feel the needles sprout from your appliance, dripping nanites onto your target. You grinned, pumping a fist into the air. You run to ramp up the difficulty, enjoying the shit out of your training. You missed it so much. Even though you keep having to slam your shoulder into walls to avoid slamming your face into them. You’re so damn bouncy. How does Genji handle this. How does he stay anywhere near the ground? You need his words of wisdom. Also, you need him to help you stop before you get to walls.

“Satya that’s so awesome! You’re awesome! Ah I need to do something to thank you and Torb. And Ziegler too, besides helping her ‘find’ people for check-ups. That’s really just something that makes me feel better about having to go see her.” You gave a giddy little hop. “It all feels so great too, I mean, it’s new but it doesn’t feel intrusive or anything? You’re so great!”

Satya smiled. “Thank you. It seems everything is working exactly as intended.”

You stumbled when you tried to prance over to her. You were still so, so bouncy. “Everything is great! Are you going to join us for game night tonight?”

“Not tonight. I need a few more tweaks on my character.” She responded, walking alongside you.

“Sweet, I’m excited for the reveal.” You smile. Reinhardt is definitely going to have to run multiple games. Unless you get someone else to DM. 76 sure likes to talk shit maybe he’d do it. Or you could. Some would say that you had a tendency to start rambling about random things instead of talking about the task at hand. Hm. Maybe that wouldn’t work well for dm-ing after all.

You bound into the rec room, giving a spin. “Hey guess who’s fully functional? That’s right, it’s me. I’m ready to murder people again. And, what’s this? I’m allowed to murder people again? But only in highly specific circumstances? Joy of joys! Just kidding, I don’t care either way. But I do look, amazing.” 

76 sighed. “I was hoping you would be gone for longer.”

“Fuck you too, Gelato man.” You throw up finger guns and raid the fridge. “That was lies by the way mocha gelato is gross.”

“I didn’t say you had to like it.” He grumbled. Which to be fair, he didn’t. But also to be fair, it was really bad. Or maybe you just bought the wrong brand of mocha gelato. That was fine, you could eat literally anything else. Which meant leftover pasta. Delicious, delicious leftover pasta.

You wiggled your hand, testing out your new projection. It was nice, a lot crisper than your old ones. Pointedly reading books instead of paying any attention to the people around you has never looked better. You settled into a plush chair, your pasta precariously balanced on the arm. You had managed to shove a few forkfuls into your mouth when Tracer zapped in, looking nervous.

“Heeey, you know how, we could always use more help?” She started slowly. You flicked your book off and tented your hands at face level.

“Who is it Tracer.” 76 asked. Tracer grinned and peered out the door, motioning for someone to enter the rec room. A thin, tall, frankly mess of a man burst through the door laughing at the top of his lungs.

“It’s Junkrat and Roadhog!” He announced. Screeched. Whatever.

“... Those two are Wanted Felons.” 76 snarled. You laughed.

“You’re a wanted felon! I love them. I’m delighted. Welcome to Overwatch. I’m Adder, I see we all kill people, that’s great, we’re friends now.” You grin, giving them a wave.

“They’re dangerous!” 76 turns to you.

“You’re dangerous! I’m dangerous! This pasta is dangerous. We’re all criminals here Gelato Man. Welcome to underground hell.” You lean back into your seat, resuming your pasta and reading session.

“We have feelings you know. We’re trying to turn over a new leaf. Do the right thing for once.” You hear who you assume to be Junkrat talking. Which makes the large man behind him Roadhog. He’s not saying much.

“Adder? I gotta go take them to Winston but, here.” Tracer holds out a small drive to you. You flip it over in your hands and find a little purple skull on it.

“I don’t trust her. But, from um. What happened, she’s your friend?” She said slowly.

“I trust her enough. She kept people from hacking my head so. You know. I’ll see what she wants, thanks, Lena.” You tuck the drive into your pocket, intending to check on it after you were done with your meal. It surprised you that Sombra didn’t just hack her way into your new system. Maybe she was just being polite.

You left towards your room, snagging a tablet from the equipment room. You could always break it if Sombra was really going to pull something shady. Technically everything she pulled was shady. So something, extra shady. Shady plus. With bacon.

The screen flickers with a floating purple skull for just a few seconds before Sombra appears, smiling and giving you a wave. “Been a while.”

“Yeah sorry. Got upgrades. Check me out.” You grin.

“Nice. Vishkar?”

“We stole their best and brightest. She’s awesome.” 

“Hm. I’ll have to talk to her when we get there.” Sombra looked at her nails. You raised an eyebrow, then raised both, temporarily distracted by the weight of the new facial implants. Less heavy than the old ones. Nice.

“When you get here?”

“Oh yes. I need you to convince your Winston to meet with me. Over a call, of course. I’m almost done, doing what I need to do. When I set everything off, we’ll need allies.” She smiled.

“I mean. It’s 50/50. I’m not sure I have that sort of pull. He’s still mad at me for bringing in Soldier 76. Who is also mad at me for bringing him in. No one likes me.” You pout.

“I will tell you where Gabriel Reyes is.”

“That son of a fuck I knew he was alive. I’m going to kick his ass when I find him.” You snap. You knew it. You fucking knew it. Now you just needed to annoy 76 into telling you who he is and then you can yell at them at the same time. Fuck, bring Ana in to. Just get your guilt trip on. Shame on all of them. They all owe Reinhardt a card. Asshole Crafting Corner time.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a ‘I’ll ask Winston’. I trust you, you haven’t done anything but help me. But they’re not me, they have morals and value and public relations shit to think about. I don't even know how you convinced Tracer to bring me the drive. She hates you. Like, Sombra. She hates you. If Winston says no, that's a no." You rubbed the back of your head. " I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, kay? Oh and, tell Reyes: What the fuck. Just repeat that like 3 times. Tell him more is coming.”


	31. Trust and New Beginnings

Winston was willing to listen. But everyone had to be there. It took two weeks to get everyone sitting down in the conference room. Or, their holoscreens depicting their faces there, as Hana and Pharah were both working like the regular adults that they were. Two bigger screens at the end of the table opposite Winston. Reaper sat in one. Sombra in the other.

“You motherfucker.” Jesse growled beside you. He was glaring at Reaper’s screen. Most of the table was. The only three that weren’t were Sombra, who was grinning, 76, who was staring at the table, and you, with your expression blank and staring at Reaper.

Reaper was Gabriel Reyes. Gabriel Reyes was Reaper. The whole time. This was some, elaborate bullshit. 

“76 is Morrison.” Sombra offered, still grinning. She thought it was hilarious. Which to be fair. It would be. If you weren’t also so pissed. You weren’t even that surprised about Morrison. He seemed like the type. It also explains why he had such a big fucking problem with you. Besides, of course, your big fucking problem with him. You two hate each other, equally. It was real friendship. Hateship.

“What?” Poor Reinhardt. All his old friends were jerks. Well, all his new friends were too, save for Lucio. But none of the new crew had ever faked their own deaths so you were the lesser jerks. Jerks light. For when you wanted that full jerk flavor but you were counting your calories.

“Let me get this straight. A bomb went off and you both decided to play dress up and hide.” Jesse raised his voice. You heard Reaper snicker and narrowed your eyes slightly.

“I’ve done a lot more than you.” Reaper, Reyes, snarled. Or maybe that was him being calm. You weren’t sure. You didn’t care. 

“And what is that?” Jesse retorted.

“I don’t owe you anyth-”

“Why the fuck didn’t you take me with you when you went into Pristine Arc?” You rise to your feet, interrupting Reaper. 

“I mean. That’s why you were there, isn’t it? I couldn’t understand what Talon wanted with the labs because I killed, all of the other subjects to get out. So what were you there for? To open the door and walk away? We both know damn well I would’ve followed you. I’m a damn good assassin and I was loyal to you still, that’s why Gelato Man, oh I’m sorry Morrison,” You shift your slight snarl towards him temporarily, “ hates me. That’s literally it.”

The room was stone silent. You slowly sat back down, gripping the arms of your chair until both Hanzo and Jesse gently pried your hands off the chair and into theirs. You were still loyal to him, in a way. He was your friend. You would fight if he needed you to save his life. But for not letting you know he was alive. Damn.

“...If I took you with me, Moira would have gotten her hands on you.” Reaper finally broke the silence, his mask blankly looking into the screen. “I expected you to go to McCree. Where I should have sent you to begin with.”

“Silly me, got super distracted.” You muttered. 

“If you’re thinkin’ it was your fault, you’re right.” Jesse’s glare was dark and focused on Reyes. He was angrier than you were, and you were fairly...well. Just disappointed really.

“It wasn’t his fault. I mean. Good call on the Moira thing. I forgot about her, and honestly, would have been thrilled to not remember her? I met her once and that was, enough. I mean. I’m pissed you and Gelato Man and Ana just refused to reach out to the people who cared about you. And now you want to reconnect?” You asked.

“Technically he didn’t want to. I just offered it so you would sit us down with the team.” Sombra seemed less smiley than she was earlier. She was as much Reaper’s friend as you were.

“Well. It was a good call. I can exist in the same room as Gelato Man I think I can forgive Reyes.” You sigh.

“It’s troubling how little information we seem to have,” Winston remarked. “Reyes and Morrison were both alive, and though I’m sure I’m not the only one that suspected 76, he was still here for months without the subject coming up. We need to be more aware of what’s going on.”

“And that’s why I’m here. To help.” Sombra suggested.

“We appreciate it, but our trust in you is limited.” Winston shook his head slowly and looked at you. “For now… Adder will remain your contact. If you have something to tell us or need something from us, you tell Adder, Adder will tell me. That goes for you too, Reaper.”

“Fine by me.” Reaper grumbled.

“Adder?”

“You know I’ll do it. I’ll follow you into Hell Winston. Some would say my unyielding loyalty is a character flaw. But they can go fuck themselves.” You start seriously but then grin at 76. Who is, actually, the one who can go fuck himself. He is aware.

“Hey Sombra, give Reaper his own line on your program, please? I want to call him and talk about boys.” You feel the tension in the room start to dissipate. 

“I don’t need to hear about Jesse.” You could physically feel Reaper’s frown and it brought you significant joy.

“I said boys. Plural.” You hold up your hands, fingers still laced with Hanzo’s and Jesse's.

“Good for you.” Reaper’s window shut off. 

“I guess I’ll be speaking to you later. We’ve got a lot to go over.” Sombra waved before her face was replaced with a purple skull. Because the window going black would have been boring. Winston stood up, motioning for you to follow him. You reluctantly released your lovers’ hands and followed him outside.

“Learn what you can from Sombra, but be careful,” Winston remarked, coming to a stop near the cliff edge, gazing out at the ocean.

“Last time you said something like that I brought back an angry old man.” You smirk.

“He’s been a good asset. Not the friendliest asset. But it was a good call. We need more information sources than just Sombra. She’s not just unreliable but she can’t be trusted. I’m only letting her contact you because she helped save you.” Winston said. You looked at him with your head tilted, curious to know what he was getting at.

“I don’t need an assassin. But that’s not your only skill. You’re just as good a spy as you are a killer.”

“You want me to be a spy?” You raised your eyebrows. Not exactly out of your wheelhouse. Plenty doable.

“Yes, and no. Do you think you could find more people like Sombra? A team?” Winston turned to you. You slowly narrow your eyes.

“You think my ass can lead a team.”

“No, but I’m hoping your brain can.” Winston smiled and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Haha the jokes… You know what Winston. If you want me to lead a team of spies, then alright. You got yourself a Spymaster.” You hold out your hand.

Winston took it and shook. “Let’s hope we’re not repeating the past.”


	32. Happiness

“How is she adjusting?” You were sitting in your office. In front of you stood an omnic with just, the cutest antenna. They didn’t enjoy you pointing it out so you kept it to yourself. They were still super cute though.

“Zarya seems to like it here. Though she doesn’t really trust us.” Lynx said, motioning to themself. Zarya was not 100% sold on omnics. But at least she didn’t try to blow them up, like some of the other omnic disliking agents.

“Well she can eat me. Tell her that if she gives you trouble. Good job Agent Seventeen. Go ahead and rest for a bit.”

“Actually, I wanted to present another possible recruit to Commander Winston. Her name is Efi Oladele, and this is the omnic she built, Orisa.” Lynx handed you a tablet with a news clipping. It was strange how often your team found and recruited new Overwatch members. Especially given your, dazzling personality. Apparently, you were ‘approachable’. Or at least, your spies were. Which was, also weird. You scanned the article and whistled.

“Kid’s a genius. Yeah, I approve. I’ll message Winston that you’re on your way.” 

“Thank you Lieutenant Mcmada.”

“Really. That’s what we’re going with. Mcmada. That’s your name for me. Can’t say Lieutenant Adder. Or just Adder. Gotta fuck up my last names like that. I can’t, I just. That hurts so much.” You dramatically wilt in your chair. 

“What about ShimaCree?”

“Please just call me Adder Lynx. You’ve spent too much time with me. I’ve rubbed off on you. Next you’re going to be going on long rants about pigeons being under-appreciated spy tools. It’s coming Lynx. Someday soon.” You slowly smiled. “Go report to our Commander.”

Lynx nodded and left the room. You turned back to your work, comparing the files multiple agents had sent on Talon’s activities. You rarely had one agent chase after a single info trail. That was, dangerous. Better to stack your spies and compare the reports. That way, when you found a liar. It was a bit more obvious. So far you hadn’t but it was better safe than sorry. Not-Blackwatch wasn’t going the same way Blackwatch went. Which is what you called it. Winston, and the bulk of Overwatch, referred to your team as Overwatch’s Intelligence Division. 

Jesse just called it Blackwatch. And he was right. It was basically Blackwatch. With a little less stabbing. A lot more traditional espionage. He was also not super pleased that he technically didn’t work for your team. You could, if you cleared it with Winston, theoretically call on anyone you wanted. The same went in reverse, although Winston had less use for your group of hackers and he really couldn’t work with Reaper without blowing his cover. Or his not cover. If he was technically one of Talon’s leaders was that a cover or was it just an asset. What would the rest of Talon do. Besides be really fucking creepy. It wasn’t worth testing.

You smiled as Jesse strolled into your office, tapping your files away. The Blackwatch logo hovered on your desk with the word “Not” written over it in bright red font. Jesse snorted, pulling you in for a kiss.

“What brings you by?” You snatched his hat and set it on your head. Jesse flicked at the brim.

“Wanted to know if you wanted to join your husbands for lunch. Hanzo just got in from his mission.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the time. Give me five minutes to send Winston this report and we’ll go.” You head back to your desk, keeping his hat. He knows better than to let you get to it. Even buying you your own hats didn’t help. Stealing his hat is your passion, your joy. 

“Sure thing, Lieutenant ShimaCree.” You look up at Jesse’s shit-eating grin. Ear to ear. He’s delighted.

“I’m leaving you.”

“Alright. Alright. I’m sorry...Lieutenant S & M.” You need to ban your agents from being friends with your husbands. Husband. Hanzo’s fine. Maybe? No. He has his jokes. And he always waits until you’re busy with something else so it surprises you.

“Jesse.”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna fucking show you S&M if you tell that to one fucking agent. Jesse stop laughing. Jesse. I’m an authority figure Jesse. Stop fucking laughing I’m gonna get grown ass adults coming up in here telling me to spank them. I wear a lot of leather. Jesse I Iike my leather pants. Stop that. Jesse. I know my team. We’re all awful. We’re all awful and-” You pause, Jesse’s laughter making you snort.

“You know what. Fine. I’m going with it. I’m telling everyone myself. If I make it weird I’ll stop it before it begins.” You send Winston the file, locking your office down and grabbing Jesse by the arm.

“Come on, asshole. Let’s go find our Hanzo.”

“He’s gonna meet us in our quarters.” Jesse grinned. Ever since Torbjorn finished the base, and you took to 3 countries to get very thoroughly married, both you three and Winston got shiny new Officer’s quarters. The addition of a kitchenette is completely useless to you, the Master of Never Cooking, but the extra space for three people is blissful. There’s room now. So much room.

Hanzo catches the two of you as you walk into the room, eagerly kissing you one at a time. He kissed down Jesse’s jaw, nipping at his neck. “I was gone too long.”

“I was gonna ask where you wanted to go-” Jesse started.

“Bedroom.” Hanzo snagged your hand, guiding your trio to the bedroom. You wiggled loose to pull off clothes, fishing around for supplies while Hanzo marked up Jesse’s neck again.

“Keep the sarape on.” You remarked as you joined them on the bed. “I want something to hold onto.”

\---

You lay in a tangled pile, panting in the scattered sheets. Hanzo buried his face in your hair, as short as it was. Jesse nuzzled into your neck, sighing happily every couple of minutes. You never would’ve dreamed that you would end up so well. It’s the sort of thing dreams are made of. And it’s real. So very, wonderfully real.

“... Love you.” You mutter. You get a chorus of love you back, whispered into your ear and against your skin.

You’re happy. Sweaty, but happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite literally the only fanfiction I've ever finished in my entire life. Thank you so much for reading and commenting and giving me kudos. You're all the absolute best, I'm glad that I was able to entertain you with this. ^^
> 
> I made myself so sad writing that last line too ;4;


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